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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS 

AND OTHEE 






BY y^ 

GRACE LIVINGSTON FURNISS 




NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
1891 




Copyright, 1891, by Harper & Brothers. 



All rightB reserved. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 
A BOX OF MONKEYS 3 

THE JACK TRUST 65 

THE VENEERED SAVAGE . *, .129 

TULU 163 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 



CHARACTERS. 

Edward Ralston.. . A pronming young American^ half 
owner of the Sierra Gold- Mine. 

Chauncey Oglethorpe His part7ier^ second son of 

Lord Dojicaster. 

Mrs. Ondego-Jhoxes An admirer of rank. 

Sierra-Bengaline Her niece^ a prairie rose. 

Lady Guinevere Llandpooiie. . .An English primrose^ 
daughter of the Earl of Pay naught. 
Costumes — Modern and appropriate. 



PROPERTIES. 

1st Act. 

Letter for Mrs. Oridego-Jhones. Writing materials. 
Chewing-gum for Sierra. Two sofa pillows. Paper of 
** light society talk." Bag and umbrella for Guinevere. 
Letter for Chauncey. Parcel for Mrs. Ondego-Jhoiies, 
Cigarettes and matches. Newspaper for Chauncey. 

2d Act. 

Newspapers on table. Afghan on sofa. Pack of 
cards. Fan. Properties for charade. Letter for Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones. 



The charade may be elaborated, or given simply as 
written. But it should be kept within the limitations 
of an impromptu affair given in a private house, with 
properties and costumes hastily collected. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 



ACT I. 

AFTERNOON. 

Scene. — Drawing-room of^ Mrs. Ondego- 
Jhones's residence j 900 Fifth Avenue, Pi- 
ano right. Sofa left, Tahle^ with writing 
materials^ right centre. Entrances — centre^ 
right, left. Window left of centre entrance. 
Portieres, pictures, chairs, etc, in handsome 
modern style. 

Curtain rises on Mrs. Ondego-Jhones at ta- 
ble, reading letter. Sierra at piano, play- 
ing. 

Mrs. Ondego-Jhones (flaying down letter). 
Very gratifying ! Very kind of her ladyship. 
Sierra! Sierra! [Turns to Sierra; gets up; 
shouts in her ear.) Sierra ! 



4 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Sierra [jumping up). Yes, aunt. I think 
so too. 

Mrs. O. You are strangely absorbed, miss. 
Pray, of what were you thinking ? 

Sierra {innocently), Ted — er — I mean — 

Mrs. O. Is Ted 2^ musical term ? 

Sierra. I said ped, aunt. Short for pedal, 
you know. 

Mrs. O. {eying her severely). You are sure ? 

Sierra. Quite sure. {Aside.) That's four 
fibs since breakfast. Oh, me ! 

Mrs. O. Very good. Listen to this. First 
sit down. Never stand in that awkward style 
again. When will you learn repose ? {Sits 
hy table.) 

Sierra. Can't say, aunt. Drive on. {Sits 
sideways on her chair ^ propping her chin on her 
hands.) 

Mrs. O. Drive on ! But what can one ex- 
pect from a girl brought up by a man on a 
ranch? However, listen. Sierra. I have here 
a most gratifying letter from the Countess of 
Paynaught. Her ladyship accepts, in the most 
friendly style, my offer of hospitality, and pro- 
poses to leave her daughter. Lady Guinevere, 
in my care, while she continues her tour west- 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. O 

ward. Ah ! little did I think when I made my 
offer on the steamer that her ladyship would 
confide her daughter to me for the winter. 
Quite an honor, isn't it, Sierra ? 

Sierra. Honor ! I think it's beastly cheeky I 
You told me yourself that her ladyship 
snubbed you persistently from Liverpool to 
New York, and called you that Ondego-Jhones 
person. 

Mrs. O. Her ladyship's manner on the 
steamer. Sierra, was due to a contest between 
a plebeian ailment and an aristocratic diges- 
tive apparatus. In short, her ladyship was 
sea-sick. No one dreams of making sea-sick 
people accountable for anything they say. • 

Sierra. I don't care ! I would not have 
her daughter. ^ 

Mrs. O. {absently). How well it will sound ! 
' Among other distinguished visitors were Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones and her guest. Lady Guinevere 
Llandpoore. Delightful ! I rather think that 
will take down Mrs. Newcome, who is insuffer- 
able on the strength of her puny little Italian 
count. The idea of my entertaining members 
of the English aristocracy will simply annihi- 
late her. 



b A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

(Sierra becomes absorbed in seeing how far 
she can stretch her chewing-gum,) 

Mrs. 0. Lady Guinevere arrives to-day ; she 
can assist at Sierra's debut to-morrow. I will 
write the notices for the society notes. ( Writes.) 

" Mrs. Ondego-Jhones introduced her fasci- 
nating niece, Miss Sierra Bengaline, at a Kaffee- 
clash yesterday afternoon. This German in- 
novation proved a pleasant relief from the 
monotonous * teas ' in vogue.'' [Aside.) That's 
a slap at Mrs. Newcome's weak tea. ( Wi^ites.) 
" Lady Guinevere Llandpoore, only daughter 
of the Earl of Paynaught, assisted in receiv- 
ing. Miss Bengaline, who w^as brought up in 
the distant West, brings the spicy atmosphere 
of her native prairies with her." I put that 
in, Sierra, to account for any atrocious thing 
you may see fit to do. 

Sierra. Good idea. 

Mrs. O. (writes), " Miss Bengaline was the 
recipient of numerous bouquets " — (aside) I 
shall order nine this morning — " and bids fair 
to be the belle of the season." (La7/s down 
pen.) There, that will do, when the gowns are 
described and the names added. Now I must 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 7 

fly to the intelligence-office, and secure at least 
three maids before lunch. Sierra, what do I 
see ? Remove that vile stuff from your mouth, 
and sit up. 

Sierra. Yes, aunt. (Sticks the wad of gum 
on back of chair; sits wp primly.) 

Mrs. O. Pav attention ! The butler Mrs. 
Campbell recommended is to come this morn- 
ing. You will have to open the door and in- 
terview him. It looks dreadfully, but can't be 
helped, since cook is the only servant who 
didn't " strike " yesterday. Well, ask this man 
the usual questions, and, if he is at all pre- 
sentable, engage him. [Bell rings,) Gracious ! 
Is it possible Lady Guinevere has arrived ? 
Run to the wdndow and see. 

Sierra (runs to the window ; looks out ; 
turns to audience). It's Ted, and aunt not gone. 
I'll beckon him to go. ( Waves her hands ; 
shakes her head violently.) 

Mrs. 0. {who has been collecting letters^ eye- 
glasses^ gloves^ etc., turns, and sees Sierra ges- 
ticulating). What are you doing? Think of 
the neighbors ! Who is it ? 

Sierra [hastily drawing curtains and com- 
ing down front). It's no one, aunt. 



8 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Mrs. O. {severely). What do you mean by 
making a — a semaphore of yourself for no 
one? 

Sierra. I meant no one in society, aunt. 
It was a — er — a kind of — er tramp, and I 
waved my hands to signify displeasure, and 
he went away. 

Mrs. O. I presume he thought you were a 
lunatic. 

Sierra. Yes, aunt. Auntie, if that English 
girl is coming to-day, don't you think you 
ought to hurry and get some servants ? She 
won't believe your entire staff left in a fury ; 
she'll think you never had any. The English 
are so supercilious, you know. 

Mrs. 0. Yes, yes, I'm off. Don't forget 
about the butler. Sierra. {Starts towards cen- 
tre door ; comes back,) And, Sierra, con over 
that little abstract I made for you of light so- 
ciety talk. I don't want a tongue-tied debu- 
tante on my hands. 

Sierra. What a nuisance ! 

Mrs. O. Nonsense ! A girl has to work for 
popularity nowadays. Well, good-bye. (Kiss- 
es her. Exit c.) , 

Sierra. I thought she would never go. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 9 

Now I will beckon Ted in. (^Runs to window ; 
looks out.) Heavens ! They nearly ran into 
each other. It's lucky aunt don't know him by 
sight. She is glaring out the window as the 
carriage turns the corner, and he is coming 
up the steps. I'll let hi«i in. Isn't he a daisy ? 
[Exit c. ; returns with Edward Ralston muf- 
fled in a large ulster.) 

Sierra. Ted, how could you ring the bell 
when there was no red book in the window ? I 
had to tell aunt you were a tramp. 

Ted {laughing), I quite forgot the red book. 
The fact is — Look at me. Sierra ! ( Throws off 
ulster. Shows he is in evening clothes.) 

Sierra. Evening clothes in the morning ! 
Oh ! Oh, I see ! Locked out. 

Ted {indignantly). Jove ! Locked out ! 
Nothing of the sort. I got up early, rushed 
off to have a picture taken in this rig to please 
you, and you reward me by the most injurious 
suspicions. I was never locked out in my life. 

Sierra. Always locked in ? 

Ted. Sierra — 

Sierra. There, there, I won't tease any more, 
Ted. Don't let us spend our precious time 
in quarrelling. Come, sit down, look pleasant 



10 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

and perfectly natural, and you'll see a little 
bird — that's me — with some news. {They 
laugh ; sit on sofa, left.) 

Ted. Now for the news, you little witch. 

Sierra. You remember the Countess of 
Paynaught ? 

Ted. No, I don't. 

Sierra. You do, Ted. 

Ted. I do not, Sierra. 

Sierra [firmly). You do, Ted. She's that 
disagreeable woman who called aunt the On- 
dego-Jhones person. 

Ted. Oh, I recollect ! you told me about 
her. Well, what comes next ? 

Sierra. Her daughter comes next. After 
insulting aunt for three thousand miles, her 
ladyship kindly invites her daughter to spend 
the winter with her — the Ondego-Jhones per- 
son ! 

Ted. That's rather cool. I suppose your 
aunt regularly flattened her out — on note- 
paper. Declined the honor with freezing sar- 
casm, eh ? 

Sierra. On the contrary, she is delighted, 
because the wretched girl has a title, and will 
look well in print. She will arrive to-day, and 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 11 

assist at my debut to-morrow. Ted [jumps 
up; seizes sofa pillow)^ I detest society! I 
feel parboiled, smothered in it. And I — don't 
— want — to — come — out ! [Emphasizes each 
word ivith a thump on the sofa,) 

Ted {springing up). Great Julius Csesar ! 
Sierra, I'm not society. 

Sierra {laughs ; walks to table). You ! 
You're only a cowboy. Papa said so. Ted, 
shall you ever forget that dreadful afternoon 
when you rode over thirty miles to tell me 
you loved me, and papa found us spooning 
in the corral, and raved around, denouncing and 
cutting off, etc. ? 

Ted {going to her), No ; and I sha'n't for- 
get how you stood up and defied him, like a 
brick — er — angel. 

Sierra. Brich angel ? 

Ted. No, no ; angel. 

Sierra. Oh, p^am angel ! 

Ted. No ; like a fascinating little cherub 
with a good firm will of its own. Jove ! how 
your eyes flashed when you said he might 
send you East, but you'd never, never give up 
Ted. {Takes her hand,) Sierra, I often won- 
der why you like me. 



12 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Sierra (xoquettishly). Why ? Let me see. 
Well, you're very warm-hearted. 

Ted {edging nearer). That's so. 

Sierra. And I like your taste in — er — 
girls, and the shape of your nose, and you 
named your gold-mine after me, and I'm so 
sorry it will not pan out. That's it. It's pity. 

Ted {puttitig his arm around her). Pity, 
Sierra ? 

Sierra {disengaging herself, runs to other 
side of table). Gracious, Ted ! don't put your 
arm around me, and say '^Sierra" in that 
tone. It— it makes me nervous. {Picks up 
papers.) 

Ted {walking up and down). You took it 
coolly enough out on your father's ranch. 
Of course I was a fool to expect to hold you 
to our engagement. I'm only a poor fellow 
with a gold-mine which won't pan out, con- 
found it ! 

Sierra. Oh, Ted! 

Ted. I see it all. To-morrow your aunt 
presents you to society, where you may meet 
some really eligible fellows. I knew there 
was something wrong when you didn't kiss 
me this morning. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 13 

Sierra. Of course I didn't. 

Ted. "Why of course? (Stops in front of 
her,) 

Sierra [mischievously). I wasn't invited. 

Ted (rushing to her). I'll take that kiss 
with interest, now. 

Sierra (shipping round the table). No, no ! 
Please, really, Ted ! I'm — I'm busy. (Dips 
pen in ink ^ holds it out theatrically.) One 
step nearer, villain, and I ink your immacu- 
late bosom. But (shyly) if you'll give me a 
little time, I'll surely pay you. 

Ted. Honor bright ? 

Sierra. Honor bright ! Now Ted, help 
me get up my '^ light society talk." You 
see, aunt is so afraid I shall say something 
original and paralyze her *' set " to-morrow, 
that she has forbidden me to say *^ mustang," 
*' ranch," or " poker," and prepared a few well- 
bred inanities for me to sling at the effete East. 

Ted. Is " sling at the effete East " one of 
them? (Talces paper from BiY^^^k.) 

Sierra. Oh, I'm using you as a safety- 
valve ! Now you go out, then come in with 
a hee-haw languid manner, don't you know, 
and I'll receive you Eastern style. 



14 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted. All right. [Takes out ulster^ hat; 
goes out ; comes hack.) Ready. 

Sierra. Wait till I am posed. (^Stiffens 
herself ; crosses her hands ; holds her head on 
one side ; smiles.) Ready, Ted. 

Ted (coming f 07' ward with affectation of lan- 
guor, his eyes half shut). Aw — chawrming 
day, Mrs. Ondego-Jhones. You always have 
chawrming days on your days. Is that 
chawrming girl your niece ? Present me, 
pray. 

Sierra. Good ! You don't look as though 
you knew enough to come in out of the wet. 
Ted, I'd no idea you could look so swellr 

Ted. There's the making of a fine idiot in 
mesilf, miss. Proceed. 

Sierra. Now I'm to look at you compos- 
edly, but not boldly, and say, archly, " May I 
give you some tea, Mr. Emtehed ?" 

Ted {looking at paper). Then we have a 
little tire of epigrams about cream sind sugar, 
and I ask you if you care for the opera. 

Sierra (talking very fast). I'm devoted to 
Wagner — (Aside.) What a fib! — but care 
little for the Italian school. However, every- 
thing is so new to me — Oh, Ted, let's drop it ! 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 15 

Ted. Fm agreeable. 

Sierra. And, Ted, Fm afraid you'd better 
go. Aunt may return. 

Ted. Go ! Why, Fve just come. Besides, 
your aunt has never seen me. I only figure 
in her mind as an undesirable lover named 
Edward Ralston. Very good ; if she returns, 
v/e'll brazen it out. Say I'm a long-lost cous- 
in or a book agent. 

Sierra. You'll have to do the fibbing, Ted. 
Fve told five fibs since breakfast, and my con- 
science aches. 

Ted. Fll attend to it. And now Fll settle 
up o«r account : fifteen minutes' interest on 
one kiss makes— 

Sierra. You can't collect it. 

Ted. Oh ! can't I ? 

Sierra. First catch your hare. 

(They dodge about stage. Sierra snatches 
up sofa pillow ; runs out, followed by Ted, 
They run in r., out l., in c, out r.) 

Sierra (coming in cautiously, r.). He miss- 
ed me up-stairs. Fm going to hide in the 
back hall, and when he comes Fll let this fly. 
(Tiptoes off, c.) 



16 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted {stealing in^ l.) Not here ! [Takes 
slumber- pillows off of chair.) Now, then, 
look out, Sierra. [Tiptoes off^ l.) 

[Bell rings violently three times, Enter Lady 
Guinevere Llandpoore in travelling gown. 
She carries dressing-case, umbrella, and mack- 
intosh. Speaks in timid, hesitating style.) 

Lady G. Ahem ! Is anybody home ? 
[Comes forward ; looks all about.) No one 
here. What a funny house! I rang, and 
rang, and rang. No one came. The cabby 
— I mean cabman — wouldn't wait. I couldn't 
sit on the steps like a beggar, so I came in. 
Mamma said I must expect unconventionality, 
but really — Well, I might as well sit down. 
[Sits R. of table, holding her bag and umbrella 
tightly.) I wish mamma had taken me with 
her; but papa's Irish tenants won't pay any 
rent, so it was cheaper to have me with Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones. Besides, mamma was afraid 
we'd meet Cousin Chauncey. He has a gold- 
mine, without any gold in it, out West — in 
Louisville, I fancy. Oh, I wish some one 
would come! Mamma says there is a niece, 
•a Pav/nce in petticoats, whom I am to study 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 17 

up, because men like Pawnees — in petticoats. 
Fm to learn American fascination in three — 
(^Feals of laughter heard outside.) 

Sierra. I hear you out there, Ted ! 

Lady G. Gracious, some one coming 1 
What did mamma tell me to say ? Oh, I 
know! (^Rises ; comes forward smiling.) Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones ? So good of — 

[Pillow flies in r. e., lands at her feet. Sier- 
ra follows it ; stands aghast, staring at 
Lady G. Cushion flies in l. e., followed by 
Ted, who is equally amazed. Lady G. drops 
hag and umbrella, turns in wonder from one 
to the other.) 

Sierra. Oh, pray excuse us ! We're hav- 
ing a little lark. Don't be frightened. 

Ted. Yes, that's all. No cause for alarm. 

Laby G. (frigidly). Thanks. (To Sierra.) 
Is Mrs. Ondego-Jhones at home ? 

Sierra. No, not at present. Lady Guin- 
evere Llandpoore, I presume. Let me pre- 
sent myself — Miss Bengaline, Mrs. Ondego- 
Jhones's niece. 

Lady G. Charmed to meet you, Miss Ben- 
galine. (Aside.) The fascinating Pawnee. 
2 



18 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

[Brings Sierra down front,) Please present 
me to that young gentleman. He spoke to 
me, and I can't answer until we are intro- 
duced. [Goes hacJc^ c. ; stands with her head 
carefully averted from Ted.) 

Sierra {aside). Now, if I tell her his name, 
she'll tell aunt. What shall I do? {Goes to 
Lady G.) It's not customary over here. Lady 
Guinevere, to — er — to — 

Lady G. To what? {Looks at Ted.) Oh! 
I didn't notice his clothes before. He is the 
butler — 

Sierra {interrupting). That's the idea. 
And, as I say, it's not customary ; but, to 
oblige you, I will present Larkins, my aunt's 
new butler, to you. 

Lady G. {sinkiyig into a, chair). Introduced 
to a butler ! What would mamma say ? 

Ted {amazed). What is that ? Come, I say — 

Sierra {shaking her fist behind Lady G.). 
'Ssh ! Do you, or do you not — er — buttle — 
for Mrs. Ondego-Jhones ? 

Ted. Eh! Oh! {Laughing.) I do, mum. 

Sierra {sternly). Very good. Then carry 
Lady Guinevere's luggage to her room. The 
second story front. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 19 

Ted. Yes, mum. [Picks up mackintosh^ 
etc., goes towards door, c.) 

Lady G. Stop a bit. Mamma said I was 
to give my brasses to — er — somebody, and 
have my boxes brought here. 

Sierra. Larkins, take Lady Guinevere's 
brasses, and telephone for a messenger to see 
after her boxes. (Ted bows; comes back; 
takes checks,) 

Lady G. (timidly). Stop a bit. [Takes out 
purse ; gives Ted a piece of silver. Sierra 
laughs.) 

Ted. Thank you, your ladyship. (Aside.) 
Confound her impudence ! [Exit c.) 

Lady G. Miss Bengaline, is it possible 
that nice young man is a common butler? 

Sierra. Frankly, Lady Guinevere, he is a 
most uncommon one. His life is a perfect 
romance. 

Lady G. How lovely ! Tell it me. [Aside.) 
Now ril study her. 

Sierra. All right. [Aside.) Isn't she prim ? 
ril take a rise out of her. [Sits on sofa.) 
First, you must know, he is the son of rich 
parents, who brought him up in the lap of lux- 
ury, sent him to Harvard, and then — er — 



20 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Lady G. {drawing her chair nearer). Died ? 

Sierra. Thanks. Died when he was a 
mere infant. 

Lady G. But I don't understand. Is Har- 
vard a kindergarten ? 

Sierra. Technically, no ; but I mean a 
legal infant of twenty years ; so he required 
a guardian, who in the basest way — er — 
er — 

Lady G. Absconded ? All Americans do. 

Sierra. Well, he didn't. He put all the 
money in an English swindle — an Orange 
Pekoe Trust, which went up the flume. 
[Points up.) 

Lady G. Went where ? [Looks up.) 

Sierra. Up the flume — burst, smashed, 
crashed (very fast). So Ted — Larkins was 
ruined, and was opening oysters in a Bowery- 
saloon, when aunt found him and brought 
him here. How does that strike you ? 

Lady G. It's beastly jolly — I mean highly 
entertaining. Now I understand the pillow 
fight. I must tell your aunt. 

Sierra (springing up). Oh, don't ! Please 
don't. 

Lady G. Why not 'I I admire her noble 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 21 

work of charity. At home he'd only have 
received out-door relief or soup tickets. 

Sierra. But this is such a delicate case, 
Lady Guinevere, and my aunt is so mod- 
est about her charities. The least allusion 
would — You understand ? (Aside,) Six fibs 
since breakfast. Oh, Sapphira ! 

Lady G. {i-ising, goes to the table ; sits). If 
you think she'd be displeased, count on my 
silence. 

Sierra. Displeased is a mild word. Be- 
sides, aunt thinks pillow-fighting is hoyden- 
ish. [Hunts under all the chairs for her chew- 
ing-gum^ talking all the while,) You see, 
papa sent me East to be toned down, and 
aunt is doing her best ; but there's too much 
raw material in me to make a good society 
girl, and that's a fact. [Finds gum, puts it 
in her mouth, sits on sofa, with her feet up,) 

Lady G. [aside). How easy she is ! I 
wish I could do that. I'll ask her to teach 
me. [To Sierra, timidly,) Miss Bengaline, 
I've a favor to ask. Don't think it strange, 
but will you teach me a little slang and fas- 
cination ? 

Sierra [demurely). Mixed or separate ? 



22 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Lady G. {earnestly), I fancy they always 
go together, for my brother Clarence says the 
American girls are perfectly fascinating, be* 
cause you never can tell what they will do 
or say next. He says they are more fun 
than a box of monkeys ! 

Sierra. Indeed. He's very kind, [Aside,) 
A box of monkeys ! 

Lady G. (seriously). Oh, Clarence knows ! 
So I thought if you'd kindly teach me a little, 
I might be more of a success when I go back. 

Sierra (jumping up). I'll do my best. 
Of course fascination isn't like acting. You 
can't learn it in six lessons. But if you will 
teach me English repose, I'll give you a little 
American dash. (Aside.) When I've finished, 
" a box of monkeys " won't be a circumstance 
to her. 

Lady G. Then it's a bargain. Shall we be- 
gin now ? 

Sierra. Oh no ; wait till after lunch, when 
you are rested. Let me show you to your 
room. Now, then. Lady Guinevere, hook on. 

Lady G. Do what? And please call me 
Guinevere. 

Sierra. All right. Call me Sierra. (Puts 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 23 

her arm around Lady G.) That's hooking on. 
And now we'll make tracks for your room. 

Lady G. (triumphantly), I've hooked on, 
and I'm making tracks. 

(Girls exeunt r. Bell rings violently several 
times, Enter Chauncey Oglethorpe. He 
looks about dubiously,) 

Chauncey. Ahem ! Any one at home ? 
(Looks all around ; listens; smiles.) What a 
lucky thing ! I'll have a bit of time to pre- 
pare my speech to Mrs. Ondego-Jhones and 
conquer my beastly bashfulness. (Comes for- 
ward,) Queer house ! Quite a paradise for 
tramps. Front door hospitably open ; no one 
insight. (Sits by table; takes out letter,) 
Mrs. Campeil's note of introduction. Wish 
I deserved half she says of me. Now, if I'm 
only not overtaken by an attack of shyness, 
all will go well. Very neat scheme. My 
revered aunt writes to know if I remain on 
my ranch all winter. I see the trap, reply, 
" Certainly ; my partner is East, and I have 
to stay by our gold-mine." Invite her to 
visit me. She then feels confident that Guin- 
evere is secure from my attentions, and leaves 



24 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

her here. The day her ladyship starts West 
I arrive here, present myself to Guinevere's 
hostess, make a favorable impression, make 
desperate love to Guinevere all winter, and 
when my aunt returns she will find her im- 
pecunious nephew established as her son-in- 
law elect. Lovely prospect! {^Rises ; walks 
up, and down,) Bah ! desperate love, I say. 
Don't I know that the minute a female ap- 
pears I shall become a tongue-tied, stuttering 
idiot ? I always do. What is there in a pet- 
ticoat that induces total suspension of all my 
faculties ? Then, again, how can I stay here 
all winter? Ralston thinks I'm in California, 
keeping my eye on that gold-mine, minus the 
gold. I've a good notion to go back. The 
idea of meeting two strange females and 
Guinevere, and explaining things ! Gad ! it 
makes me burn all over, [Lays letter on tahle^ 
R. c. ; takes off his top-coat ; hangs it on chair, 
R.) Jove ! I'll step into this side-room, and 
collect my senses. [Exit l.) 

Ted {enters r. ; sees coat and hat.) That's a 
give-away. I'll remove that circumstantial 
evidence of my presence, and then write to 
Sierra. (^Catches up wraps; throivs through 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 25 

R. ; exit ; comes hack ; sits doivn hy table.) 
Now for my note. What will I write on? 
[Sees letter left hy Chauncey.) Ah ! this 
will do — an old invitation. (Tears off hlank 
side; throws other under table; writes.) 
'^ Dearest Sierra, — I can't keep up this idiotic 
deception any longer. Will not wait to see 
your aunt. Will keep my eye out for the 
red book. Can't you — " (Looks up.) Jove ! 
some one coming. I'll go in the library. 

(Bushes off, R. Writer Chauncey, l.) 

Chauncey. I've got my speech on the tip 
of my tongue. It's rather neat, too. (Comes 
forward, smiling.) Ah ! Mrs. Ondego-Jhones, 
I presume. Allow me — 

(Sierra enters, c. He looks at her in horror; 
retreats backward to sofa, where he involun- 
tarily sits down, still staring.) 

Sierra. A strange man in a petrified con- 
dition. A¥ho is he, and what petrified him ? 
Oh, I see ! It's the butler from Mrs. Cam- 
pell. Well, he sha'n't stay and interfere with 
Ted. (To Chauncey, haughtily.) You've a 
note from Mrs. Campell ? 



26 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Chauncey (rising; looks at floor.) Yes. 
Mrs. Ondego - Jhones — I — Oh no ; too 
young — I — (^Aside,) Confound it ! 

Sierra. I am Miss Bengaline ; but my 
aunt left full instructions in regard to you. 
[Aside.) She said ask the usual questions. 
What are the usual questions ? Oh, I know ! 
[Sits hy the table.) Are you sober ? 

Chauncey [coming down front). She thinks 
I am intoxicated. I must explain. I'll make 
a bold effort. [Turns suddenly to Sierra.) 
I'm as sober as you are. 

Sierra [springing up). What ? How dare 
you address me so impertinently ? That set- 
tles it. My aunt would never engage you. I 
will bid you good-morning, and advise you 
to remember that the first requisite in a but- 
ler is a respectful manner. ( Walks hack to 
window.) 

Chauncey. Butler ? I ? Oh, madam ! there 
— is — a — mistake — I — er — I — [Aside.) I 
give up. [Crosses r. ; stands looking down^ 
twisting his chain.) 

SiERiiA[co7ning doivnL. front). He's a lunatic. 
He can't meet my eye ; can't keep his hands 
still; talks wildly. I must humor him. [To 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 27 

Chauncey.) Some mistake you say. Didn't 
you come from Mrs. Campell ? 

Chauncey (aside). The room is going 
around, and my tongue thickening. (2b 
Sierra.) Yes ; IVe a letter — a — a — letter, 
you know — a — you know — (Aside.) She 
thinks Fm a fool. 

Sierra. Poor fellow ! He's very nice-look- 
ing. (To Cpiauncey.) Allow me to see 
your letter. 

Chauncey (rushes to table, stumbling over 
a chair ; hunts for letter). Jove ! it's gone ! 

Sierra. The letter ? 

Chauncey. Yes. Good - morning. Er^— 
I'll call again — I'm far from well — I'm — 
er — er — feverish — Jove ! my hat and coat 
are gone ! 

Sierra. I'm horribly frightened. 

Chauncey (coming down r. front. Aside). 
What must she think? I'll brace up, talk 
very loud and fast, and explain. (Rushes to 
Sierra ; seizes her hand.) Madam, I'm very 
shy — very shy — very, very, very shy — 

Sierra. Shy ! Ted ! Ted ! ^ Help ! 

Ted (runs in; pushes Chauncey away). 
How dare you touch this young lady ? Sier- 



28 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

ra, who is this fellow? (Chauncey cross- 
es R.) 

Sierra (throws her arms about Ted). Oh, 
Ted ! I think he is crazy. Don't hurt him. 
Don't go near him. 

Ted. There, my dear, compose yourself. 
(Leads her to sofa,) Sit down, and I'll man- 
age him. (Walks fiercely up to Chauncey.) 
Now, sir ! 

Chauncey {turning). Sir ! Why, it's Ral- 
ston ! Thank fortune. 

Ted. Chauncey Oglethorpe ! By all that's 
wonderful. 

Chauncey. Let me explain. This horrible 
tangle is the last result of my dreadful shy- 
ness. Miss Bengaline mistook me for a but- 
ler or something — I don't quite understand 
what — and I tried to undeceive her, and now 
she mistakes me for a lunatic. 

Ted. What a joke ! Why are you so bash- 
ful ? 

Chauncey. I don't know. I was built that 
way ; increasing crescendo from a timid child 
to a full-blown idiot, afraid to look a woman 
in the face. 

Ted. Poor old chap 1 Never mind. I'll 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 29 

settle matters. Come and be presented to 
Sierra. She's no end jolly. No stiffness 
about her. 

Chauncey. Oh, no ! Let me sneak quietly 
away, and then you explain. 

Ted. Nonsense ! [Drags him to Sierra.) 
Sierra, let me introduce my partner, Chauncey 
Oglethorpe — a very much abused young 
man. 

Sierra {rising). Charmed to meet you, Mr. 
Oglethorpe. I've heard so much about you 
from Ted and your cousin Lady Guinevere 
that I regard you as an old friend. Pray for- 
give my extraordinary stupidity. 

Chauncey. Yes, thank you. It was stupid. 

Sierra. Now excuse me one moment, and 
I will tell Lady Guinevere you have arrived. 
{Exit c.) 

Chauncey. What a lovely girl ! Has lots of 
tact. Don't stare a fellow out of countenance. 

Ted. Sierra is a trump. Have a cigarette, 
and be comfortable till she returns. 

Chauncey. Smoke here ? What would Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones say to that ? 

Ted {laughing). She'd think it very friend- 
ly on the part of Lord Doncaster's son. 



30 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Chauncey. Here goes, then. [Lights cigar- 
ette.) How about you? {They sit by table.) 

Ted. You don't understand. Mrs. Ondego- 
Jhones hasn't the pleasure of my acquaintance. 
I figure in her mind as a Western desperado, 
whom Sierra is to be separated from at all 
hazards. I am here clandestinely. Nice po- 
sition, isn't it ? 

Chauncey. By Jove ! Ted, it's a pity she 
can't know you, barring irapecuniosity. She'd 
be proud of you for a nephew-in-law. 

Ted. Thanks, very much. Speaking of im- 
pecuniousness, how did you leave our mine ? 
jk^^ Anything turned up ? 

Chauncey. Yes ; the men were turning up 
lots of dirt when I left last week, and the 
foreman said he thought he could manage to 
do the swearing for us both, so I left him, 
with a red and blue halo about him, watching 
the men work. 

Ted. Well, I feel sure there is gold there. 

Chauncey. Do you ? By-the-bye, have you 
seen my cousin ? 

Ted. Yes. She took me for the butler, and 
Sierra didn't undeceive her. Now, aside from 
ray clothes, do you think I look like a butler ? 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 31 

Chauncey. No ; you're not sedate enoiigh. 
But, by Jove, an idea. Why don't you keep 
up the deception? Win your way into the 
aunt's heart, and keep near the niece all winter. 

Ted {springing up). My dear fellow, no 
power on earth would induce me to place my- 
self in such a position. Imagine me opening 
the door, handing the kettle, and inquiring, 
with a sickly grin, " Did you ring, madam ?" 
[Advances ; meets Mrs. Ondego-Jhones en- 
tering c. ; stands in amazement,) 

Mrs. O. Did I ring ? I should think I did. 
You are — oh, I see — the butler from Mrs. 
Campell. Very fortunate. Please take, my. 
parcel. {Hands him parcel ; Ted takes it si- 
lently,) 

Chauncey {rising. Aside), What a joke ! 
{Crosses l.) 

Mrs. 0. {advancing), Mr. Oglethorpe, I pre- 
sume. Yes. Mrs. Campell told me I should 
probably find you here. So pleased. Yes. 

Chauncey. Thanks — er — er — Will you 
pardon my smoking — er — 

Mrs. O. Don't mention it. I'm charmed 
to see you feel at home. Now, before we go 
any further, which is your hotel ? 



32 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Chauncey. The — er — St. James. 

Mrs. 0. Very good. My man slfall go right 
down and order your luggage sent here ; for 
my house must be your home while you are 
in the city. As I said to Mrs. Campell, Lord 
Doncaster's son has every claim on my hos- 
pitality. Excuse me one minute. (^Goes to 
table ; seats herself.) 

Chauncey. You're very kind. [Aside.) 
She's easy enough to get on with. I wonder 
how she knows the governor ? {^Sits on sofa ; 
takes up paper.) 

Mrs. O. {to Ted). Now, my good man, 
we'll very soon come to an understanding. 

Ted {aside). Will we ? 

Mrs. 0. Whatever your terms, I agree to 
them ; whatever stipulations you make, I 
agree. Having been to all the intelligence- 
offices unsuccessfully, I am desperate. With 
a houseful of company, and a reception to- 
morrow, I must have a butler. What is your 
name ? 

Ted {muttering). What '11 I say ? 

Mrs. O. Eh? Oh! Whuttlesay. How 
very peculiar ! And yet how very English. 
(Chauncey hursts into a fit of laughter.) 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 33 

Mrs. O. a joke, Mr. Oglethorpe ? 

Chauncey. Yes, er — a good joke. (Reads.) 

Ted. Pardon me, madam, there is some 
misunderstanding. 

Mrs. 0. Eh? Oh ! not Whuttlesay ? What 
then? 

Ted. Bother the name ! I mean I cannot 
remain in your service. Tm not — not — sure 
I could — er — suit. I haven't — buttled for 
several years. 

Mrs. O. Buttled ? 

Ted. Imperfect tense — t buttle, you buttle, 
he buttles, or is buttled. (Aside,) What am 
I talking about ? 

Mrs. O. Ah ! a new verb ; an English re- 
vival, I presume. However, I understood you 
had been a valet. 

Ted. a valet ? 

Chauncey. A valet ! Jove ! 

Mrs. O. And it makes no difference. You 
are very presentable, and I must have you 
for to-morrow. The maids shall attend to 
everything else, if you will only remain, and 
open the door and hand the kettle. You can 
leave the following day ; but you must stay 
at present. 
3 



34 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted (aside), I'll do it. (Aloud.) Very 
good, madam ; to oblige you, I will, on the 
condition that I am free to do just what I 
choose and nothing else. 

Mrs. O. Then that is settled. (Slips a bill 
into his hand.) You'll find me practically 
grateful. 

Ted (aside). My second tip. 

Chauncey.^ He 5aic? no power on earth 
would make him do it. 

Mrs. O. Whuttlesay, you may retire. Mr. — 

(Enter Lady Guinevere and Sierra, c.) 

Mrs. 0. Ah, my dear Lady Guinevere, w^el- 
come ! So very pleased to see you again. 
I've a pleasant surprise for you. Mr. Ogle- 
thorpe has promised me a visit. 

Lady G. You are very kind to me, Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones. It is indeed a delightful 
surprise. (Aside.) AVhat w^ould mamma say? 
(Crosses l. to Chauncey, who is much embar- 
rassed.) 

Mrs. O. Mr. Oglethorpe, permit me to pre- 
sent you to my niece. Miss Bengaline. 

Chauncey. Thanks. We've — er — met be-, 
fore — 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 35 

Mrs. 0. Indeed ! Where ? 

Sierra (looking straight at Chauncey). I 
do not recollect meeting Mr. Oglethorpe. 

Chauncey (a^ec/e). Jove! I forgot. (Aloud,) 
Yes, I meant I had never se«n anything like 
Miss Bengaline. 

Lady G. Chauncey ! 

Chauncey. I — er — -meant Td like to have 
seen — er — something like her — er — only I 
never had. 

Sierra. Aunt, who is the other young gen- 
tleman ? 

Mrs. 0. The other young gentleman is 
VVhuttlesay, the new butler. 

Sierra. Whuttlesay ? (Aside.) What a 
joke ! 

Lady G. (to Chauncey). She said his 
name was Larkins. 

Chauncey. Hush ! 

Mrs. O. Whuttlesay, take my wraps. ( Gives 
him mantle, hat, muff.) Now, young people, 
follow me to prepare for dinner, and if you 
notice any omissions, remember my establish- 
ment is settling down after a terrific domes- 
tic cyclone. 



36 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

(Lady G. and Chauncey exit c. Mrs. 0. and 
Sierra follow. Sierra kisses her hand to 
Ted, who stands right of centre entrance. 
As curtain falls^ he throws Mrs. O.'s wraps 
violently on fl^or ; sinks into chair,) • 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT IL 

EVENING. 

Scene. — The same. Enter Mrs. O., Sierra, 
Lady G., Chauncey, c, in evening dress. 
Lady G., and Chauncey come down l., 
front, 

Mrs. 0. Now I must leave you. I have 
two receptions to attend before 11 o'clock. 
Sierra, I leave you to entertain Lady Guin- 
evere and Mr. Oglethorpe. 

Sierra. Yes, aunt. Drive — 

Mrs. O. {aside). Do not say drive on. 
Study Lady Guinevere. Observe her air of 
well-bred repose, her careful language. 
[Aloud,) Lady Guinevere, you must allow 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 37 

Sierra to show you my old masters. Mr. 
Oglethorpe, you will find my billiard-table in 
perfect order. Sierrsij remember / Aurevoirf 

All. Au revoir! [Exit Mrs. 0., c.) 

Sierra. Do you want to see the old masters, 
Guinevere ? They're patent Americans, you 
know. [Sits R. of table, Chauncey and 
Lady G. on sofa,) 

Lady G. Patent American ? Old mas- 
ters ? 

Sierra. Yes : copies, you know. Kept up 
a chimney until they're sooty enough. They 
are all made in Nassau Street. 

Lady G. How clever you Americans are ! 

Sierra. Yes ; we're all here. Mr. Ogle- 
thorpe, the cushions of aunt's table are as 
dead as Moses. She can't play a little bit. 
Shall we have a game ? 

Chauncey {looking sentimentally at Guin- 
evere). Just as you say, Miss Bengaline. But 
— er — why — not — simply — talk ? 

Sierra. Yes ; let's. I only asked because 
aunt suggested it. 

Mrs. 0. {appears c, in opera wrap), I'm 
off, young people. Enjoy yourselves. Oh, 
these wretched social duties ! Lady Guin- 



38 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

evere, the rest of your trim — er — boxes have 
been carried to your room. Good-bye. 

All [rising). Good-bye. (Uxit Mrs. O.) 

Sierra. Oh, Guinevere, do let me help you 
unpack your "trunk boxes," and show me 
your London gowns. Mr. Oglethorpe, will 
you excuse us a few minutes ? 

Chauncey. With pleasure. 

Lady G. Chauncey ! 

Chauncey. Well, I — er — didn't mean — 

Sierra. We can imagine what you meant. 
Let me assuage your grief with papers — Eng- 
lish, French, American. (Lays papers on 
table.) Now have a cigarette, and make your- 
self at home till we return. (Girls exeunt c.) 

Chauncey. A very nice little girl. She 
knows what a fellow likes after dinner — soli- 
tude, smoke, and news. (Lights cigarette. 
Sits r. of table,) 

(Enter Ted cautiously^ l.) 

Ted. Is the missus off ? 

Chauncey. Yes ; and the girls up-stairs. 

Ted (sitting l. of table). Then I will have a 
little vacation. Well, isn't this the jolliest mix? 
How did you think I got on at dinner ? 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 39 

Chauncey. I was amazed at your cheek. 
Every time Miss Bengaline brouglit out that 
Whuttlesay with such gusto, I nearly col- 
lapsed. Indeed, between my guilty knowl- 
edge of your identity and my consummate 
bashfulness, I imagine Mrs. Ondego-Jhones 
considers me a donkey. 

Ted. Nonsense ! All you need is confi- 
dence. 

Chauncey. Confidence ! How am I to get 
it? I was born with my foot in my mouth, 
instead of a silver spoon. I wish you could 
give me a little audacity, and show me how 
you manage women. 

Ted. That's easy. 

Chauncey. Easy ! Why, fifty times I've 
been on the verge of getting off a proposal 
to Guinevere. Led up to it neatly ; really 
been almost coherent, you know ; only to 
stand at the last moment gaping, with my 
mouth open, because she looked at me. 

Ted. Well, you must get more confidence, 
and learn diplomacy. Instead of letting her 
disconcert you, you must embarrass her. 
The way to win a woman is to — 

Chauncey. Yes ; go on. 



40 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted. Never let her feel certain of you; 
play her like a trout; tantalize her; lead her 
on ; when she grows warm, cool off; when she 
comes forward, retreat. Be fascinating, but a 
little out of her reach. When she is wrought up 
to the proper point, propose, and she's yours. 

Chauncey. Is that how you won Miss Ben- 
galine ? 

Ted (meditatively). Well, no. But it's the 
way she won me, and it is a splendid theory. 
Poor rule that won't work both ways, you 
know. 

Chauncey. Do you fancy I could do that 
kind of thing ? 

Ted. Certainly. All you need is a little 
practice to give you confidence. I'll show 
you. Courtship made easy. Here. (^Pins 
afghan about his waist ; sits on sofa, fanning 
himself with newspaper,) Now, then, I'm a 
perfect lady. Imagine me Lady Guinevere, 
and propose to me. 

Chauncey {goes to the door). Now watch 
me lead up to my point gracefully. [Comes 
forward?) Good - evening, Guinevere. I've 
been waiting two years to say something. 

Ted (coquettishly). Oh, Chauncey ! 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 41 

Chauncey. Well, I have. I love you ; be 
my wife. 

Ted. Is that your idea of " leading up to 
it V^ You'd frighten her into saying no. Al- 
low me. (Pins afghan on Chauncey.) Now, 
then, let me show you my ideas. (Chauncey 
8its on sofa, Ted crosses r. Coming forward,) 
Ah, Guinevere, how fortunate to find you 
alone ! Thought Fd drop in a moment on 
my way to the A's and B's and C's. Horrid 
grind, society ! That will give her the idea 
you are much sought after, and the instant a 
girl thinks you a social exotic, she wants you. 

Chauncey. I see. Now I'm Guinevere. 
Can't you make it two minutes, or do you 
think time spent with a cousin is wasted? 
{^Fans himself looks at Ted coquet tishlg,) 

Ted (sentimentally). Time spent with you, 
Guinevere, goes all too fast. Are you going 
to the curling match? After a compliment, 
put on the brake with a commonplace remark. 
That whets the feminine appetite. 

Chauncey. I see ; caviare, as it were. 
Where were we ? Oh, I recollect ! I'm afraid 
you are a sad flatterer. 

Ted. Truth cannot flatter. That's old, but 



42 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

invaluable. ( Ta^es Chauncey's Aanc?.) What 
an exquisite bangle ! Turkish, is it not ? May 
I examine it ? 

Chauncey. It's wished on. 

Ted [sitting beside Chauncey on sofa). 
Wished on ? By whom ? 

Chauncey {shyly). My mamma. 

Ted. Oh, that's all right. Dear little hand ! 

Chauncey. Oh, you needn't hold my hand. 
Mamma wouldn't like it. 

Ted. Give me the right to. 

Chauncey {with great artlessness). How ? 

Ted {putting arm around Chauncey). Give 
me yourself. Then your hand is my hand, 
and a man has a perfect right to hold his own 
hand. That's logic. 

Chauncey. Logic ? It's impudence. 

Ted. Same thing. You love me, darling, 
don't you. Say that as a matter of course. 
Women like the masterful style of wooing. 

Chauncey {laughing). Do you love me ? 

Ted {laughing), I adore you. {Kisses 
Chauncey.) Is it yes ? 

Chauncey. Ask mamma. {Jumps up,) 
Jove ! I wish Guinevere were here now ! I'd 
just lire off my proposal like a ton of brick. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS, 43 

Ted. New way of making a mash, eh? 
Wei], good-luck to you, old fellow, when you 
do meet her. Why don't you do it to-morrow 
evening ? Ask her to waltz ; then get her 
into the conservatory. There's everything 
in the surroundings. 

Chauncey. I'll do it. Say, Ted, if it's not 
too much of a bore, show me how to "back" 
my partner without tearing her dress to rib- 
bons, and make her my enemy for life. 

Ted. All right. 

( Whistles waltz. They dance round the stage, 
Chauncey tripping over afghan. Girls 
heard laughing.) 

Ted. The girls ! Your cousin mustn't find 
me here. 

(^Exeunt Chauncey and Ted, ii. Enter 
Girls, c.) 

Lady G. [timidly). Rats ! 

Sierra. Guinevere, the modest, shrinking 
air with which you sling slang is simply con- 
vulsing. 

Lady G. I know I don't — er — sling it very 
well yet, but I mean to learn. Mamma says 



44 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

it's time we girls rallied around our young 
peers, and saved the honor of old England. Do 
you know, Sierra {tragically)^ there's hardly a 
marriageable duke left. All snapped up by 
the Americans ; and now they're commencing 
on our rich commoners. 

Sierra. How greedy! {Sits on table; 
swings her feet.) We get there every time, 
though. 

Lady G. {aside). How fascinating. {To 
Sierra.) Let me do that too. {Sits by Sier- 
ra on table^ imitating every motion,) Do please 
teach me fascination. 

Sierra {aside). Now for a circus. {Aloud,) 
It's very hard to be fascinating in cold blood 
with a female, but I'll do my best, because I 
cottoned to you from the first. Sabe ? 

Lady G. {timidly), I'm on to your lead. 
Is that right ? 

Sierra. You're getting on like a house 
afire. {Aside,) How pleased her brother will 
be! 

Lady G. Thanks, dear. But there's some- 
thing wrong yet. When I told your aunt 
her cook wasn't any slouch, she seemed real- 
ly thunder-struck. Yet Clarence told me 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 45 

that slouch was a common American expres- 
sion. 

Sierra. It is. About as common as a word 
can be. You're right there. How I would 
like to meet your brother ! As I cannot, 
suppose you play his part, and I'll entertain 
you in real American style, so you can see 
the true inwardness of our resemblance to a 
box of monkeys. [Goes off, c.) 

Lady G. How charming she is ! But I'm 
learning. [Enter Sierra.) Good - evening, 
Miss Bengaline. 

Sierra {in door-way), '' Well, this is way 
up!" That's New York. [Coming for- 
ward). ^' Shake, old chap," is Chicago, and 
"Put it there, pard," is Boston. [Shakes 
Guinevere's hand violently.) Local dialects, 
you know. 

Lady G. [laughing). Oh, how funny ! Do 
you girls really say such things? [Sits on 
sofa.) 

Sierra. Please remember you are your 
brother. 

Lady G. What would he say ? 

Sierra. He would probably stick his mon- 
ocle in his eye, look as though he was trying 



46 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

to recollect an idea left him by liis grand- 
father, and say — nothing, unless" he could 
manage some nice little compact repartee, 
such as " Gad !" or ^* Moses !'' 

Lady G. Yes, I fancy Clarence would say 
*^ Moses!" 

Sierra. Of course. Ever so many English- 
men come to papa's ranch. I know their 
style. 

Lady G. Well, I'll be Clarence again. Mo- 
ses ! Did you ever hear — oh ! Thingummy 
— you know the opera that German beggar 
wrote, three old ladies playing with a clothes- 
line, three fates, or something, by — Wagner. 
Do you like that sort of thing ? 

Sierra. You've got that down fine. Now 
watch, Guinevere, I'm going to let monkey 
No. 1 out of the box. {Jumps up,) Like 
Wagner ! Never while there's a cat left to 
our back fence. I like tunes with dances in 
between each verse. But above all dances — 
Say, I'll dance you a breakdown so you can 
see how I entertain young men. 

Lady G. Oh ! yes, do ! 

{Dances break-down or fancy dance; throws her- 
self into a chair r. of table.) 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 47 

Sierra. There ! A tune like that snatches 
Wagner bald-headed. 

Lady G. Jove ! Is that right ? 

Sierra. Correct. Now, then, Guinevere, 
I'll let monkey Xo. 2 out of the box. Waltz 
up, and I'll show you how to play poker. 
(Lady G. waltzes stiffly to table.) 

Sierra {laughing). Waltz up is slang, my 
dear. A charming Americanism for approach. 

Lady G. {sits opposite Sierra). Oh ! Then 
let me write it down. {Takes out tablets; 
writes,) " Snatch Wagner bald-headed. Waltz 
up." I've quite a nice little list. 
* Sierra {dealing cards. Aside), I haven't 
the faintest idea of how poker is played, and 
my imagination is nearly exhausted. {To 
Guinevere.) We each have eleven cards, 
match all we can, and put our money on the 
— er — pot. 

Lady G. Where is the pot? 

Sierra. The pot? Oh, that's a term de- 
rived from potluck, meaning that you plank 
your pile on whatever happens along. Plank 
your pile means invest your funds. 

Lady G. I see — at least I'm on to the 
game ! I got that off nicely, didn't I ? 



is A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Sierra. Yes : you're as bright as a red 
wagon. 

Lady G. Thanks, dear. Are your feet 
crossed ? (Looks under table,) 

SiBRH A (cross'inc/ her feet). Certainly. Amer- 
ican girls always cross their feet, plant one 
hand on their hip thus {suits action to word), 
talk at the top of their nasal voices, contra- 
dict their elders, say " I guess," and laugh 
incessantly. That is the groundwork of the 
fascination which makes them [sarcastically) 
more fun than a box of monkeys. 

Lady G. {imitates Sierra's pose. Takes 
up tablets ; reads). Now for the game, ante 
up, and watch me snake the pot. 

Sierra {laughing). Good ! 

Lady G. Oh, I'm learning. -{Consults tab- 
lets ; throws pair of Icings on table,) Get on 
to those, and fork over the boodle. 

Sierra. What ? Guinevere, where did you 
get those — those expressions ? 

Lady G. Out of an English novel called 
The Western Belle; A Prairie Romance, 
The heroine in it talks that way. Isn't it 
right ? 

Sierra. Right ? Oh, certainly, beautiful ! 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 49 

How pleased your brother will be with your 
progress ! 

Lady G. (innocently). Yes. Won't he ? 

Sierra. Undoubtedly. Suppose we don't 
play any more poker, I will teach you that 
gem of a song. [Rises ; comes down front.) 
My pupil is so far ahead. I shall have to 
retire. 

Lady G. [joining her). Yes; do teach me 
the song. 

[They put arms about each other ; dance, Ted 
and Chauncey enter , stop in amazement, r.) 

Chauncey. My proper cousin ! 

Ted. Sierra dancing a break-down ! (Girls 
stop, L.) 

Lady G. Chauncey with the romantic but- 
ler! 

Ted [crossing to Sierra). Sierra, what are 
you up to? [They retire up to window,) 

Lady G. [crossing to Chauncey). The but- 
ler called her Sierra. Did you hear ? 

Chauncey. Hush ! He isn't a butler. 

Lady G. No ? Who is he ? 

Chauncey. My partner, Edward Ralston, 
disguised. The aunt don't know him. 

4 



50 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Lady G. How romantic ! 

Sierra {coming forward with Ted). Guin- 
evere, Mr. Ralston desires to be presented to 
you in liis proper character. (Ted bows.) 

Lady G. (timidly holding out her hand,) 
Shake, old chap. 

Ted. Pardon? 

Lady G. {confused), I mean, put it there, 
pard. 

Ted {amazed). Certainly. {Shakes hands.) 

Sierra. Ted, I want you one moment. 
{They retire to piano. Sierra sits down, play- 
ing softly while Ted talks to her.) 

Chauncey. Guinevere, it's not my affair, 
you know, but where did you pick up those 
dreadful words ? 

Lady G. They are not dreadful. Mamma 
said I was to acquire a little American fasci- 
nation, so I could captivate a duke. 

Chauncey. Do you want to captivate a 
duke ? 

Lady G. No ; but I must obey mamma. 

Chauncey. Only till you — er — marry. 
Look here, Guinevere — look here — {tying his 
handkerchief into knots) — I — I — want to — to 
tell you something. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 51 

Lady G. Yes, Chaiincey. 

Chauncey [desperately). Tin — I — I love 
you. I know you think I'm a stammering 
idiot. I know you won't have me. I don't 
wonder. I wouldn't were I you. I'm shy 
and poor, my gold-mine won't pan out, and 
oh, Guinevere, say it quickly I 

Lady G. Say what ? 

Chauncey. No. 

Lady G. {shyly), I'd much rather say yes. 

Chauncey. You dear lovely girl ! [Kisses 
her.) 

Lady G. Chauncey ! Think of Sierra and 
Mr. Ealston ! 

Chauncey. Oh, they're engaged them- 
selves. Miss Bengaline, Ed, congratulate me. 
Guinevere accepts me. 

Sierra [coming forward). I do congratulate 
you both. 

Ted. And I. [Brings Chauncey down 
front.) Did you try my receipt ? 

Chauncey, No. I shut my eyes, and dived 
in, and Guinevere landed me. 

Sierra. Young people, I propose a grand 
celebration of this happy event. What shall 
it be — music, dancing, charades ? 



62 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Lady G. Charades; and Chauncey and I 
will be audience. (Sits on sofa ; XDhauncey 
follows.) 

Sierra. Very good. Come, Ted. (To 
Ted.) It's the only kindness we can show 
them, to leave them alone. (Uxit Ted and 
Sierra, r.) 

Chauncey. Guinevere, I'm the happiest fel- 
low alive. What a relief to have the proposal 
over! 

Lady G. (innocently). Yes; isn't it? 

Chauncey (taking her hand). Dear little 
hand. (Bell rings.) 

Lady G. They're ready. Let go my 
hand. 

Ted (entering r.). Lady and dear old chap, 
you are now invited to witness a performance 
unequalled in the annals of the stage. Two 
artists, unassisted by scenery, will act out a 
word of four syllables in one scene, which 
requires twenty-four characters, a chorus, a 
village green, a raging ocean, and a blood- 
hound. (Bows, Exit r.) 

Chauncey. Jove ! how he rattles on ! I 
wish I was clever. 

Lady G. You are clever, Chauncey. 1 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 53 

don't like men who are so awfully talka- 
tive. 

Sierra (^from door). Ready ? 

Lady G. Let her go (consults tablets)^ Gal- 
lagher ! 

Ted and Sierra {ship on^ hand in hand ; 
dance, around stage^ singing.) We are the cho- 
rus. We are the chorus. Tra-la-la-la, tra-la- 
la-la. (^Stop R. front.) 

Ted. In the absence of scenery, kindly im- 
agine-a village green surrounded by spreading 
oaks. In the — er — bosky shade, happy ten- 
antry drinking air with gusto out of paper- 
mugs,- while the oldest inhabitant, in a white 
smock, explains the situation to his son's 
wife. Is that clear ? 

Lady G. Yes ; do go on. 

Ted {in high^ yiping voice). Ees, ma dear ; 
it's a great day for me. I's ployed with t'owd 
squoire w'en ee were a lad, and now 'is son is 
a-comin' back to the old 'ouse. 'Tis a joyful 
day — a joyful day for I, oo is a undered and 
fifty-two come Lady-day. ( Weeps.) 

Sierra. There, Father Hodge, don't ee be 
choildish. Sit ye in the shade, hand 'ave a 
mug o' beer. Young squoire, ee won't for- 



54 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

git ye. Ee'll be 'ere directly with his sweet- 
'art, Lady Clare, and 'is wicked cousin. A 
bad lot, that wicked cousin — a bold, bad 
willian. 

Ted. Now we are the chorus again. [Takes 
Sierra's hand. Both cry together,) Hurray ! 
Hurray ! Hurray for the young squire ! 

Ted. Now, I'm the young squire, and Sier- 
ra is my sweetheart. ( They go hacJc^ come down 
smiling and bowing to imaginary chorus.) 

Ted. Thanks for your hearty welcome, my 
honest friends. I'm rejoiced to be among 
you again. It's a pity my father is not alive 
to see this day ; on the other hand, if he were, 
I could not decently inherit the estate. It's 
. a poor heart that never rejoices ; so enjoy 
yourselves. There's a roasted ox in the fore- 
ground, and unlimited beer and skittles in 
the background. Kindly take yourselves off, 
and leave me to propose to Lady Clare. 
( Waves his hand. Exit chorus.) 

Sierra. Dear Alphonse, come and sit un- 
der the shade of this noble tree, where the 
lime-light will reach us, and tell me about 
your travels. 

Ted (leading her to chair). Darling Clare, 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 55 

the lime-light is full upon us, the music is 
softly throbbing, the time and the hour are 
here, and I am man enough to do my duty. 
I love you, darling. Will you be the young 
squire's bride ? 

Sierra. I have always adored you. 

Ted. Thanks. I thought you did. I will 
now leave you to your inevitable soliloquy. 
[Exit R.) 

Sierra {theatrically clasping her hands). 
He loves me ! Happy girl ! But no, I feel 
a sudden thrill. Such happiness cannot last. 
Ah ! here comes the wicked cousin. Why 
does he so darksomely pursue me ? 

[Enter Ted, his coat -collar turned up; high 
hat on.) 

Ted. At last ! [Springs to Sierra ; grasps 
her by the arm,) Listen, girl ! I love you ! 
Nay, start not ! I've just murdered your un- 
cle. Near his rigid form I dropped a hand- 
kerchief, a collar-button, an overcoat, and 
other articles of wearing apparel, marked with 
the name of my puling cousin, your lover. 

Sierra [falling on her knees). Cruel man ! 
Let me fly to remove them ! 



56 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted. Not so, unless you marry me. In 
that case you may. Thwart me, aud I accuse 
him before the whole village. I love you 
darkly, desperately, madly ! 

Sierra. Oh, this is fearful ! But know, 
proud ruffian, that not to save my darling's 
life would I consent to tell a lie. I defy you ! 

Chauncey {applauding). Hooray ! Good 
for you ! I am the gallery. Miss Bengaline. 

Sierra. Thanks. 

Ted. Now all the characters are on the 
stage ; I am still the villain. Ah ! defy me ? 
Ho, everybody ! This wretch, my cousin, has 
murdered his benefactor in cold blood. By 
his victim's corpse you will find the evidence. 

Sierra. Now I faint. 

Ted. Yes, in my arms. And the curtain 
falls on a grand tableau. (Sierra falls into 
his arms,) Now, what is the word ? 

Mrs. O* [enters c). The word is disgusting, 
atrocious ! 

Sierra (springs away from Ted). Aunt ! 

Ted. Now for it. 

Mrs. O. Whuttlesay, retire. Sierra, are 
you crazy ? Lady Guinevere, what must you 
think ? 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 57 

Lady G. I think it's lovely. 

Chauncey. Yes. Bat what was the 
word? 

Sierra. Aunt, you don't understand; it 
was a charade. 

Mrs. O. (sinking into a chair). Charades 
with a butler ! Whuttlesay, leave the room. 

Sierra. Do go, Ted. 

Ted. No, Sierra ; I will not. 

Mrs. O. He calls her Sierra ! 

Chauncey. What a jolly row ! 

Ted. My name is not Whuttlesay, Mrs. 
Ondego-Jhones, njor am I a butler. 

Sierra (shutting her eyes). It's coming. 

Ted. My name is Edward Ralston, and you 
must not blame Sierra. The misapprehension 
arose from a perhaps not unnatural mistake on 
your part. 

Sierra. It's all my fault. Don't blame 
Ted, aunt. 

Mrs. 0. Edward Ralston ! How could I 
have been so stupid? Sierra, you need not 
bristle up. I am charmed indeed to meet Mr. 
Ralston. (Shakes Ted's hand,) 

Ted (bewildered). You're very good. 

Sierra. She must be delirious. 



58 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Ted. You did say you were charmed to 
meet me ? 

Mrs. O. Yes ; and I meant it. Sierra's 
father has withdrawn his opposition, which 
was only based on pecuniary grounds, you 
know, and which vanish now your circum- 
stances are altered so wonderfully. 

Ted. Who altered them ? What are they? 
Oh, somebody is crazy ! 

Sierra. What do you mean, aunt ? 

Mrs. O. Is it possible ? Yes ; I see. Well, 
let me be the one to announce the news. As 
I went out, the postman handed me this letter 
{holds up letter) from Mr. Bengaline. Come 
around me, young people, and I will read it. 

(Chauncey and Lady G. stand l. of Mrs. 0. ; 
Ted and Sierra r.) 

Mrs. 0. [opening letter). ** I've just sold 20,- 
000 head of long-horned " — No, that's not it. 

All. Go on. 

Mrs. O, "The Eepublican triumph" — um 
— " present state of the tariff " — er — Ah ! 
here it is. 

All. Yes ; do go on. 

Mrs. 0. " The sudden find of a new lead 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 59 

in the Sierra Gold-mine, owned jointly by 
Edward Ralston and Chauncey Oglethorpe " — 

Ted. Gold at last ! 

Chauncey. Jove ! it has panned out ! 

Mrs. 0. {smiling). Wait! [Reads,) *^Has 
produced a state of excitement in the country 
which has not been equalled since '49. The 
superintendent has sent to San Francisco for 
more machinery, and telegraphed the lucky 
partners to come home. Speculators have 
already bid $600,000 for the mine. There is 
not an inch of ground for sale near the Sierra, 
and the excitement is intense." 

Ted. Hooray! We're millionaires! Sier- 
ra, you're my mascot ! 

Chauncey. This will fetch your mother, 
Guinevere. 

Mrs. O. Wait! [Reads.) ^^ Of course, now 
I will not oppose Sierra's engagement, as Ral- 
ston is a delightful young fellow." Now, my 
dears, isn't this a romance ? 

Sierra {kissing her). Oh, aunt, I'm so happy. 

Ted. Yes, aunt^ we're so happy ! I'll run 
on to-night, get things in working order, re- 
turn in four weeks, and then for a wedding. 
Eh, Sierra ? 



60 A BOX OF MONKEYS. 

Sierra. Oh, Ted, we mustn't be rash ! 
We'll wait a long, long time — say five weeks. 
{They retire up.) 

Mrs. O. [rising). Mr. Oglethorpe^ I congrat- 
ulate you heartily. 

Chauncey. Thanks. I shall go on with 
Ralston, return with him, be married on the 
same day — 

Lady G. You forget mamma. 

Mrs. O. My dear, your mamma can have 
no reasonable objection to a son-in-law worth 
at least half a million. 

Sierra {coming forward). Then you for- 
give us, aunt ? 

Mrs. 0. I saw through the whole thing 
from the first, you foolish children. Ah ! you 
need not look incredulous. Two can play at 
deception. 

Lady G. {to Chauncey). What a tarradid- 
dle ! She was furious over that charade. 

Chauncey. I should say so. By-the-way, 
Ted, what was that wonderful word of yours? 

Ted. Why, Melodrama ? 

Mrs. O. Melodrama? Very clever, too, if 
I can judge by the little I saw, 

Sierra. Yes, I thought you seemed pleased. 



A BOX OF MONKEYS. 61 

Mrs. O. I was. And how very appropriate, 
as our little drama ends in the good old-fash- 
ioned melodramatic style — all the lovers unit- 
ed, everybody rich, and the hard-hearted guar- 
dian bestowing her blessing thus {holds out her 
hands), so as to make a good curtain picture. 

Mrs. O., c. 
Chauncey. Lady G. Ted. Sierra. 

quick curtain. 



\ 



THE JACK TRUST. 



CHARACTERS. 

Lord Jack Townley . . . The Trust, who thinks himself 

irresistible. 

Jennie Patie Who quite agrees with him. 

Clorinda de Courcey A humorist in petticoats. 

EuLA Otis A relic of " befo'' de wah.^^ 

Old Mrs. Bootiiby . . . Whose actions speak louder than 

words. 
Maria Up to snuff/ yes, ma\xm ; that's what I 



THE JACK TRUST. 



ACT I. 



Parlor in Green Spring Hotel, Table^ ivith 
register and writing materials ^ right centre. 
Large screen^ right. Chairs^ centre. Sofa, 
chairs, and table, left. Mirror, left. Pict- 
ures, etc. Entrances, centre and left. 

{^Curtain rises on Maria arranging parlor.) 

Maria {dusting and arranging furniture). 
My lawsey me ! " There's no fool like an old 
fool," and Miss Eula, she's set out ter prove 
it. I b'lieve if Lord Jack, he was ter say, 
" Here, you ! black my boots !" Miss Eula, 
she'd take and do 'em. And all 'cause he's 
an English lord — jus' the same ornary sort 
that our grandsires fit and fought and bled 
and died ter get the country quit of. And 
it's plumb scan'alous, fur she's a good forty, 



66 THE JACK TRUST. 

and he only twenty, though he orders folks 
roun' like he was risin' ninety. [Strikes atti- 
tude.) If any man was ter do me like he 
does Miss Eula, I'd set the door open wide, 
and I'd say that yeah is the openin' the car- 
penter made fur you-uns. Yes, ma'am ; that's 

what! 

(Enter Eula, l. e.) 

Eula. Fo' gracious sakes ! Not done yet, 
and the train due in ten minutes, perchance 
bringing a dozen guests ! I declare I've nary 
bit of use for you in the world ! You're jus' 
reg'lar no 'count, po' ornary white trash. 

Maria. Me ? Po' ornary white trash ! 

Eula. Yes, you. Give me the duster — 
though it's enough to make my po' father 
turn in his grave for me to do servant's work. 
Give me the duster ! 

Maria. Take it, and keep it. I'm a Vir- 
ginia Picken, I am, an' your father couldn't 
turn no fas'er than mine in his grave if he 
could see me livin' out for wages. Yes, 
ma'am. An' before the wah the Pickens had 
mo' servants an' mo' horses an' mo' whiskey 
than the Otises ever dreamed of. Yes, ma'am ; 
that's what ! (Flings herself on sofa ; sobs.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 67 

EuLA. Fo' gracious sakes ! Quit crying, 
you foolish gyurl ! 

Maria. YouVe done hurt my feelin's, an' 
— an' — I'm g-goin'. 

EuLA. Going ? And the train due ? Oh, 
Maria. 

Maria. I ain't carin' 'bout trains. I'm 
goin'. 

EuLA. Oh, Maria! [Goes to sofa ; sits beside 
her.) Think of dear Lord Jack ! He says 
no one can make his mint-juleps like you 
can. Think of me, mos' 'stracted with that 
no 'count cook in the kitchen. Of co'se I 
respec' your fam'ly same as my own ; and if 
you'll only stay, I'll give you the pink silk 
dress I wore before the fall of Richmond. 
There ! 

Maria [jumping up). The pink silk with 
the white lace bertha? Miss Eula, I 'cept 
yo'r apology. Give me the duster, an' I re- 
sume my duties. 

EuLA. No, no. I'll help. Jus' wipe off 
that window. The train might bring a score 
of guests. 

Maria. Yes'm, it might; but I s'pec' it 
won't. 



68 THE JACK TRUST. 

EuLA. Have you seen dear Lord Jack lately ? 

Maria. Yes'm. He's lyin' in the ham- 
mock, drinking mint-julep and smoking cig- 
arettes, like he always is. 

EuLA. Dear felloV ! I s'pec' he's thinking 
about his book on America. 

Maria. His book on America ! He 'ain't 
got sense enough ter v/rite a scrap-book. 
Yes, ma'am ; that's what ! 

EuLA. He has a vast and lofty intellec' — 
What are you staring at? 

Maria. An ole piny-woods woman in the 
mos' survigerous sun-bonnet I ever see. 

EuLA. Where's she goin' at ? 

Maria. She's comin' in here. 

EuLA. I reckon she's selling something. 

[Enter Mrs. Boothby, c. e. She wears a gos- 
samer circular^ a sun-bonnet tied closely over 
her face^ carries small basket on her arm. 
Advancing^ holds out her slate to Eula, l.) 

EuLA. No, I don't want any. Never use 
them. (Mrs. B. pokes slate at her.) No, I tell 
you! 

Maria {coming to c). No ! she tells you. 

Eula. She must be deaf. 



THE JACK TRUST. 69 

Maria. There's writin' on tlie slate. 

(Mrs. B. waves slate to Eula. Points to 
writing,^ 

Eula. {taJces slate — Maria looks over her 
shoulder — reads). " My name is Mrs. Boothby. 
I am deaf and dumb. I want to board here.'' 
Board here ! Would you take her, Maria ? 

Maria. Well, she couldn't complain much ; 
but I'd make her pay in advance. I never 
heard of a piny-woods woman stopping at a 
hotel. 

Eula. Nor I either. ( Writes.) My terms 
are one dollar a day in advance. 

[Gives slate to Mrs. B. Mrs. B. taJces it. 
Writes. Gives it hacJc to Eula with a hill.) 

Eula {reads). *^The terms suit. Here is 
two days in advance. I sha'n't be any trouble. 
All I want is to be let alone. It amuses me 
to watch folks ; and as I can't hear what is 
said, or tell what I see, nobody minds old 
Mrs. Boothby." 

Maria. Pore ole soul ! Ask her ter lay off 
her bonnet an' come up-stairs ; I want ter see 
her face. 



10 THE JACK TRUST. 

EuLA. Won't you— Oh! I forgot. {Writes.) 
Won't you take off your bonnet and go to 
your room ? 

[Gives slate to Mrs. B., who writes ; hands it 
back,) 

EuLA (reads), '^ I never take off my bonnet 
on account of neuralgy in my jaw, and stairs 
tire my legs. I am eighty-six years old, and 
don't want to be bothered." 

Maria. Mighty spry ole woman for eighty- 
six. Writes like she was a girl. 

EuLA. She's got a will of her own, I reckon. 
But I don't want to bother her. 

(Mrs. B. goes to sofa ; draws up table ; takes 
cards from her pocket ; plays solitaire.) 

Maria. Lawsey me ! Watch her playin' 
kyards with one foot in the grave ! 

EuLA. It's her foot, I reckon, and none of 
our business. Jus' set things to rights while 
I rub the mirror. 

[Goes to glass ; looks at herself ; Maria dusts 
chairs^ etc) 

EuLA. Two more gray hairs, and the crow's- 



THE JACK TRUST. 7l 

feet deepening every day ! Ah ine ! And yet, 
as dear Lord Jack says, is not the rich tint of 
autumnal beauty preferable to the glaring cal- 
lowness of spring? Maria, what do you think, 
Lord Jack thought I was only twenty-nine ! 

Maria. He mus' be a born — Has he paid 
his board bill yet? 

EuLA. His remittances have not yet arrived. 

Maria. That explains it. He's trying to 
use soft soap instead of hard cash. 

EuLA. Your levity is misplaced. His lord- 
ship has discretion.' He detests gyurls, and 
is at this moment hiding from two bold, for- 
ward chits, who engaged themselves to him 
much against his will, and may at any mo- 
ment arrive here. 

Maria. Crickey ! Both together ? 

EuLA. I dare say. Lord Jack met one at 
Marietta, and the other at Stone Mountain. 
And both fairly persecuted him into hiding 
here. 

Maria. Then how do they know where he's 
at? 

EuLA (^talcing paper from her pocket). By 
means of this vile paper. (^JReads,) ^* Lord 
Jack Townley, eldest son of the Duke of 



72 THE JACK TRUST. 

Grabshire, is drinking the waters at Green 
Springs. N. B. — Rumor says his lordship is 
to marry one of the fairest daughters of that 
lovely resort very shortly." There ! 

(Mrs. 'B. ffives a hoarse chuckle; pounds table; 
Maria and ^ula jump,) 

Maria. What a queer old creature ! 

EuLA. Never mind her. His lordship says 
the instant those horrid gyurls read that par- 
agraph they will rush here to drag him away. 
And he hates them — hates every woman, ex- 
cept — me. 

(Simpers, Mrs. B. chuckles again,) 

Maria. You ? Well, Fm plumb cata- 
wumped ? 

EuLA {with dignity), I am not a foolish 
gyurl— 

Maria. iVo, ma'am. You're some older. 

EuLA. Of co'se! And, as Lord Jack says, 
what is there that does not improve with 
age ? 

Maria. He mus' be a born fool. Why, 
there's shoes, an' teeth, an' hair, an' women, 
an' mules — 



THE JACK TRUST. 73 

EuLA. You are impertinent. His lordship 
says a school-gyurl is as unpalatable to a cul- 
tivated taste as this year's claret. And wom- 
en, like cheese, grow mellow with age. 

Maria. He mus' be teched in his head. 

EuLA {haughtily). We will not discuss this 
any mo'. The names of these crude atroci- 
ties are Clorinda de Courcey and Jennie 
Patie. Both are, of course, young and un- 
ripe. If either of them arrives to-day, you 
must deny that Lord Jack is, has, or will be 
here. Be cautious and— [Bell rings.) 

Maria. Lawsey me ! the train ! 

EuLA. And Lord Jack in the gyarden asleep 
and unprotected. Fly to warn him, Maria, 
while I run to see who has come. 

{Exit c. Maria exit l., running. Mrs. B. goes 
to both entrances ; looks out ; comes down 
front; laughs. Removing bonnet and cloak, 
shows a young and pretty woman, hand- 
somely dressed. Runs again to entrances. 
Returning, takes calico dress from basket, 
made very plainly, with straight skirt and 
full waist. Puts it on over her own gown. 
Business of fearing discovery. Rolls cloak - 



74 THE JACK TRUST. 

up ; lays it in basket ; ties her sun-bon- 
net closely over her face. Retires behind 
screen^ r.) 

[Enter Clorinda de Courcey, in handsome 
street dress.) 

Clo. Well, I'm rattled, and running after a 
man is enough to rattle any girl ; that is, if 
she isn't used to it. Mamma generally cor- 
rals the men, and I lasso them. But here I 
must act alone. [Sits by table, r. ; fans her- 
self; laughs.) What a delightful, sneaky ex- 
hilaration a lark gives one ! I don't wonder 
men like them. When I think of mamma's 
face, if she could know where I am, my spine 
turns to ice ; and when I think of Lord Jack 
cowering under my spiked sarcasms, I'm fit 
to die of laughing. How pleased he will 
be, dear boy, don't yer know ! He'll find he 
can't offer me the devotion of a lifetime 
for five weeks, and skip the morning after 
I accept him, without paying the penalty. 
I only accepted him to spite the other girls, 
and wouldn't take him as a gift now. All 
the same, during the two hours I have here 
before my train goes back to Atlanta I mean 



THE JACK TRUST. 75 

to frighten his lordship into a fit. Clorinda 
de Courcey isn't to be trifled with in that 
style. Meantime, I suppose, my dear Jack 
is sitting in an arbor somewhere, spooning 
on that fair daughter of Green Springs the 
paper spoke of. {^Rises ; walks about.) This 
is a peculiar hotel ; not a soul about. Ey- 
the-bye, I must be careful not to give my 
name to these people. Oh, I wish I were a 
man ! Then I could walk boldly in and ask 
for Jack. But if I were a man, Jack wouldn't 
have proposed to me. Things are equalized 
very nicely, after all. Ah, here comes a girl. 

(^Enter Maria, out of breathy l. e.) 

Maria. Oh ! Excuse me, ma'am, but what 
is your name ? (Goes to table, r.) 

Clo. Clo — er — that is — What a funny 
question ! 

Maria [aside). It's one of 'em. [Aloud.) 
Not at all. Guests always register on arriv- 
ing. [Opens register.) 

Clo. So they do. Well, then, my name is 
Norval— Mrs. Norval. ( Crosses to table, r. ; 
writes.) Mrs. R. S. Norval. 

Maria. Where from? 



76 THE JACK TRUST. 

Clo. The Grampian Hills. That is (^writes), 
Peoria — er — California. Is that sufficient ? 

Maria [aside). It ain't one of 'em. {Aloud.) 
AVill you go to your room now, ma'am ? 

Clo. My room! Well, yes. By-the-bye, 
are there many people here now ? 

Maria. Lawsey me, no ! What an idea ! 
There's no one here now, never has been, 
and never will — {Aside.) What am I say- 
ing? 

Clo. (aside). She's lying. {Aloud.) That 
is a peculiar statement. Come, now ; there 
is a young man here, isn't there ? 

Maria. Nary a man — at least — no, there 
ain't. 

Clo. {aside). I know she is lying. Fll 
pump her. {Aloud.) Very good. Show 
me my room. 

{Uxit, c. E., followed hy Maria. Mrs. B. 
comes from behind screen; goes to door; 
looks after them; exits c. e. Enter Jen- 
nie Patie, l. e.) 

Jen. {looks timidly around). Oh dear ! No 
one here. How nice ! {Takes paper from her 
pocket ; reads.) ^' Lord Jack Townley, eldest 



THE JACK TRUST. 77 

son of the Duke of Grabshire, is drinking 
the waters at Green Springs." Yes, it is the 
place, and I suppose Jack is somewhere 
about, making love to that horrid "fair 
daughter" this nasty paper speaks of. I 
just don't believe a word of it. Jack is very 
perfidious, but it was only three weeks ago 
that he ran away from Stone Mountain, the 
day after he proposed to me, and he couldn't 
be engaged to any one in so short a time. 
Oh, dear ! I wish he would happen in. 

(^Enter Maria, c. e.) 

Maria (aside), I b'lieve it's one of 'em. 
(Aloud.) Excuse me, ma'am, but what might 
your name be ? 

Jen. It might be Jones, but it isn't. Why 
do you ask ? 

Maria. It's so you can register. {Hands 
her pen.) 

Jen. Why, let me see. [Sits by table; 
sucks pen; looking at Maria, who eyes he)* 
suspiciously.) Oh, how funny 1 Who is 
this Mrs. R. S. Norval, from Peoria, Califor- 
nia ? I never knew Peoria was there. 

Maria, Mrs. Norval. She's jus' come. I 



78 THE JACK TRUST. 

reckon she's a play-actress. Leastways she 
was racing up and down like you was, when I 
first set eyes on her. Are you a play-actress, 
ma'am ? 

Jen. Not exactly. (Aside,) An excellent 
idea! (^Aloud.) I'm a prima-donna. 

Maria. What's that yeah ? 

Jen. I sing — in opera, you know — on the 
stage. And my name is Capiani (writes) — 
Julietta Capiani. 

(Enter Clorinda, l. e.) * 

Clo. The girl who came on the train with 
me ! 

Maria. Mrs. Norval, let me make you ac- 
quainted with Miss Julietta Capiani. Miss 
Capiani, this is Mrs. Norval, the play-actress. 
(Both how.) 

Clo. (haughtily). Pray who told you I was 
an actress ? 

Maria. Lawsey me ! I guessed it. Ain't 
you? 

Clo. (aside). What a jolly notion ! (Aloud.) 
I'm not exactly an actress ; I'm a dancer — a 
skirt dancer. (Sits c.) 

Jen. (aside). How disgusting ! 



THE JACK TRUST. 79 

Maria. I don't see any difference. Any- 
way, I've got ter see after dinner. {^Exit l.) 

Clo. You have not at all the professional 
air, Miss Capiani. 

Jen. And you're not a bit like one's idea 
of a dancer. 

Clo. I'm not an ordinary dancer, you know. 

Jen. Oh ! one can see that. But don't you 
find it very wearing on the — er — that is — well, 
your ankles, you know ? I read that Carmen- 
cita practised nine hours a day. Do you ? 

Clo. (^fanning herself). Of course. {Aside,) 
Thanks for the hint. 

Jen. {leaning forward). Then, except when 
you are asleep — deducting three hours for 
meals — you must dance, and kick, and stand 
on one toe all day. 

Clo. That is the exact state of the case. 
You see^ in a profession like mine, the mus- 
cles must be kept very, very flexible. 

Jen. Fancy ! Well, don't let me hinder 
you from practising. {Aside.) I'm dying to 
see her ! {Aloud.) Pray go on. 

Clo. Thanks; I will. {Rising; comes down 
L. F. Aside.) I've been just a trifle too 
clever. Why didn't I say I was a book 



80 THE JACK TRUST. 

agent ? However, here goes ! (^Dances mili- 
tary schottische, talking over her shoulder,) 
Your work, in its way, is as arduous as mine, 
is it not. Miss Capiani ? 

Jen. Just about ; scales from morning to 
night. 

Clo. Then pray don't let me interrupt. 

Jen. You are very kind, Mrs. Norval. 
(Clears her throat Aside.) How can I sing? 
(Aloud,) How exquisitely you dance ! I 
never saw such grace, such ease. But you 
don't kick. 

Clo. (aside). Me kick! (Aloud.) Consider 
ray costume. I never kick except in my room 
or on the stage, where kicks must be had. 

Jen. So I've observed. 

Clo. But you are not singing. 

Jen. (nervously). Please don't judge my 
voice by this specimen. I've a bad sore throat. 

Clo. And a doctor's certificate in your 
pocket, of course ; they all do. 

Jen. Certainly. 

(Sings and acts outy ^' When love is young," 
etc.) 

Clo. I'm almost dead ! 



THE JACK TRUST. 81 

(^Drops into chair, n,,fans herself, and watches 
Jennie.) 

Jen. {coughs violently at end of verse, falls 
into chair, r, c). This is awful ! 

[Enter Eula and Maria, l. e.) 

Maria. Ladies, Miss Eula Otis, who keeps 
the hotel. Miss Eula, this is Mrs. Norval, the 
dancer, and Miss Capiani, the singer. {All 
how.) There ! Now you know each other. 

Eula. Very happy to meet you, ladies. 
Of course IVe heard of you both favorably 
through the press, but since the wah I go but 
little to gayeties of any kind. I assure you, 
therefore, it is doubly gratifying to welcome 
you here. 

Clo. You are very kind, Miss Otis, {Aside,) 
What a lib ! 

Jen. I didn't know my fame had spread so 
far. {Aside,) She's a humbug ! 

Maria. Dinner is ready, ladies. Jus' step 
out this way. {Exit c. e.) 

Both Girls. Thanks. {Exit c. e.) 

Eula {soliloquizing). They're just two crude 
gyurls — pink and white and silly. Specially 



82 THE JACK TRUST. 

the married one ; she's as undignified as the 

other. 

[Enter Maria, c.) 

Maria. Lawsey me ! Miss Eula, watch you 
standing here, an' the new women waiting 
for their dinner, an' Lord Jack a-clamoring 
for his ; an' ole Mrs. Boothby, she's jus' hand- 
ed me a note on her slate, ter say she wa'n't 
a-goin' ter eat along of the folkses, but mus' 
have her dinner in the parlor — leastwise a cup 
of tea an' some toast ; an' here's a note for 
you from Lord Jack. [Exit c.) 

Eula. Dear boy ! Where are my glasses ? 
Ah! here. 

[Puts on eye-glasses ; reads aloud,) 

''' Get those two girls out of the house at once. 
I saw them through the balusters when they 
went to dinner. They are dangerous. De- 
votedly yours, Jack." 

[Enter old Mrs. B., l. c. ; sits on sofa, l. ; draws 
up table ; plays solitaire.) 

Eula. Good heavens! What a situation! 
Dangerous, how ? I must see his lordship at 
once. [Exit c.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 83 

(^Enter Clorinda, l. Walks about, looking on 
floor.) 

Clo. Where can I have dropped it? I 
should hardly care to have to telegraph to 
mamma for the money to get home with, 
especially as Jack is not here. What could 
that paper have meant by such a farrago of 
lies ? Ah ! here's my purse. [Picks it up ; 
sees Mrs. B.) Gracious ! What a figure of 
fun ! Another relic of *^ befo' the wah," I 
suppose. But I am losing my dinner. 

■ ( Walks suddenly to c. d. ; runs into Maria, 
entering with large tray. Both exclaim; 
come down front.) 

Maria. My lawsey me, Mrs. Nerval ! You 
nearly made me spill Lord — that is — this yeah 
dinner ! 

Clo. I thought you said there were no other 
guests in the house ? 

Maria. There ain't. 

Clo. Then who is this for? The family 
skeleton ? 

Maria. Crickey ! It's for — for ole Mrs. 
Boothby. 

Clo. Is that she ? [Points to sofa.) 



84 THE JACK TRUST. 

Maria {looking over shoulde?'). Yes, ma'am. 
She's eiglity-six years ole, deaf and dumb, 
hasn't nary tooth in her jaw, an' always 
wears her bonnet 'cause she has neuralgy. 
Mightily entertaining ole lady. Yes, ma'am ; 
that's what ! 

Ci.0, [iDensively, looking at tray). Um! Not 
a tooth in her head, and yet fried chicken, let- 
tuce, corn pone, claret, cheese, and pie. Ma- 
ria, some one has told a lie. 

Maria. You've got me catawumpussed, but 
I 'ain't told nary lie. 

Clo. (sweetly). Then give the dear old lady 
her dinner, Maria. 

Maria {hanging tray down on Mrs. B.'s ta- 
ble). There! 

(Mrs. B. rises^ th7'ows tray on floor ; sits; 
goes on playing solitaire.) 

Clo. Oh, Maria ! you might as well ow^n 
up. Who is that dinner for ? {Laughs.) 

Maria. I never did see such a curious creat- 
ure. {Kneels on floor ^ picking up dishes.) 
Why can't you mind your own business ? 
Drat the old thing ! Who'd have supposed 
she had such a temper ? 



THE JACK TRUST. 85 

{Enter Eula, c. ; stands amazed.) 

EuLA. What is all this? The dinner on 
the floor, Mrs. Norval laughing, and Maria 
scolding ! Maria, what is all this ? Speak ! 
I insist ! 

Maria. Hush ! 

{Points to ceiling, then to tray ; puts finger on 
her lips ; shakes her head at Clorinda.) 

Eula. Oh ! Til soon settle her. Maria, go 
and see if the train is on time. 

Maria. Yes, ma'am. {Exit, l., carrying 
tray.) 

Eula {advancing to Clorinda, r. c). Mrs. 
Norval, I regret to say I cannot accommodate 
you overnight. 

Clo. Indeed ! Why not ? 

Eula. Because I — I — Well, I don't want 
any stage-players in my house. 

{Enter Jennie, c.) 

Clo. Then your objection applies to Miss 
Capiani ? 

Eula. Certainly. 

Jen. {crossing to Clorinda, r. c). What is 
the matter? 



86 THE JACK TRUST. 

EuLA. I object to having siicli as you in 
my nice quiet little hotel, and you can^t 
stay. (Crosses to l. ; stands hy Mrs. B.) 

Clo. You're an impertinent old cat, and 
I'm going as soon as the train comes. 

Jen. So am I. (Aside.) What would mam- 
ma say ? 

EuLA. Befo' the wah my pa was the proud- 
est man in nine counties, and as his daughter, 
you are beneath my notice. The train is due 
in ten minutes. 

Maria [running in, l.). Oh, Miss Eula ! Oh 
my ! Lawsey me ! A construction train has 
done jumped the track at Nickajack Junction 
and all trains both ways have done quit 
running till to-morrow. Yes, ma'am ; that's 
what ! 

Clo. No train ! That knocks me out. 

Jen. No train ! What will mar^ima say ? 

EuLA. Then you'll have to stay. Oh, dear ! 

(Lord Jack runs in, laughing, c.) 

Jack. Well, you got them off. [Sees 
girls,) Oh, good Gad! the girls! [Stands 
aghast,) 

Jen. and Clo. Jack ! 



THE JACK TRUST. 87 

Tableau, 

Mrs. B. 
Maria. Jack. Jennie. 

EuLA. Clorinda. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

[Enter Maria, c. d.) 

Maria. Well, talk about your dime novels! 
If any one of 'em can get ahead of the doings 
in this yeah house, I'd like to see 'em. Here's 
Miss Eula cracked over Lord Jack and 'stract- 
ed with jealousy of them two play-actresses, 
an' them jealous of each other, an' Lord Jack 
dodgin' of all, an' ole Mrs. Boothby tagging 
roun' and peeping and prying, like she was a 
revenue raider after a " blind tiger." An' me 
— lawsey me ! I sides with 'em all. Yes, 
ma'am ; that's what ! 

(Clorinda dances in, l. d.) 

Clo. {sinking into chair, r.). Only you. Ma- 



88 THE JACK TRUST. 

ria ? What a relief ! Do you know, Maria, 
you are a very pretty girl ? 

Maria. Me ? Crickey ! What an idea ! 
What does you-uns want me ter do, Mrs. 
Norval ? 

Clo. Oh, not much. Just to help me out 
in a little joke. You see, I — er — in fact — 
well, I want to see Lord Jack alone for a mo- 
ment, and he doesn't at all want to see me. 
As a matter of fact, I fancy you are the only 
woman in the house he dares face. 

Maria. Yes'm, that's so. 

Clo. (holding up coin), Now, you see this, 
Maria ? This is a lovely new gold dollar, and 
it's for you. [Gives it her,) 

Maria {tying it in her handkerchief). Oh, 
thank you, ma'am. 

Clo. Now, Maria, there's another of those 
pretty things in my purse, which is yours the 
first time you manage to take me to Lord 
Jack quietly. Be discreet, and, above all, 
do not say a word to that cat of a Capiani 
girl. 

Maria. Count on me, Mrs. Norval. She's 
a sly-boots. Yes, ma'am ; that's what ! An' 
the way she runs after that pore dear boy is 



THE JACK TRUST. 89 

jus' awful. I'll go hunt liim up now, pore 
lamb. 

Clo. Do. Well, why don't you go ? 

Maria. I 'lowed you might be goin' ter do 
your steps. 

Clo. {sharply), I am not. Go at once ! 

Maria. Yes'm. {Exit c.) 

Clo. She " 'lowed I might be goin' ter do 
my steps!" They all do. Every bumpkin 
in the county, having heard of ^' the dancin' 
woman over ter Miss Eula's," rides over on 
his mule to hang over the fence and watch 
me prance about the garden like a lunatic. 
{Rises ; walks about) Truly, it was clever 
of me to say I danced nine hours a day. 
Every minute I am in sight of any one I have 
to skip like a gazelle with a broken ankle. 
The chamber-maid "- 'lows she'd mightily like 
ter see nie practise"— and off I go {dances 
across stage^ humming)^ so until my room is 
made up. The waiter, gardener, cook, Maria, 
Miss Eula — all are possessed with a burning 
desire to see me practise. And practise I 
must, or own myself a humbug. {Sinks into 
chair, l.) Oh, my quivering ankles ! Why 
didn't I say I was a book agent, or something 



90 THE JACK TRUST. 

sedentary ? Meantime the train does not 
come, Jack dodges about, and all is gloom 
and mystery. Why did the Capiani cat 
shriek " Jack ?" Why is she here ? I don't 
believe she's a bit of a prima-donna any 
more than I am. Good gracious ! there's 
that Boothby nuisance ! 

(Mrs. B. enter Sj c. "^ goes up to Clorinda ; gives 
her slate.) 

Clo. [reading), " Please oblige an afflicted 
old woman by letting her see you dance." 
Was there ever such a torment? [Writes.) 
With the greatest possible pleasure. 

[Gives slate to Mrs. B., who reads ; claps her 
hands ; sits on sofa^ l.) 

Clo. (dancing jig or fancy dance^ and talk- 
ing). Ugh ! You old tease 1 The idea of 
making a fool of myself for you ! If a 
train don't come soon, I'll tell the truth. 
Ow, I believe I've snapped a tendon ! Oh ! 
Ah! 

(Sits suddenly, r., by table. Mrs. B. claps her 
hands ; leans for ivard expectantly.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 91 

Clo. {limps over to her^ smiling sweetly), I 
sha'n't dance a bit more ; and you're a cheeky 
old idiot ! So there ! 

[Exit c. Mrs. B. follows as Jennie enters, l.) 

Jen. {hoarsely). " When love is young, all 
the world seems gay. Tra-la-la-la." {Looks 
about.) No one here ! {Takes out a lemon ; 
sucks it.) Love can be as young as it likes, 
but the world does not seem gay if it can't in- 
duce the other party to come within hailing 
distance. It's perfectly shameful the way 
Jack treats me. Me, who he swore was the 
only girl he had ever loved ! If I am, why is 
Mrs. Noval here ? I heard her scream ^' Jack !" 
I did. And I don't believe she's a dancer. I 
listened at her door this morning and there 
v/asn't a sound. And she's so hateful. If I 
stop singing one instant, she's at my door 
with her everlasting, "Not practising, Miss 
Capiani ? How very odd !" Odd ! If a train 
does not come soon, my throat will simply 
crack open. 

{Enter Maria, c.) 

Maria. Have you seen Mrs. Norval, ma'am? 



92 ' THE JACK TRUST. 

Jen. {curtly). No. But I am glad to see 
you, Maria, for I want you to do me a great 
favor. First, please accept this. [Gives her 
money,) 

Maria. Oh, tliank you, ma'am! (Ties it 
in handkerchief.) 

Jen. There's as much more for you if you 
think you can manage to quietly come and 
tell me when you find Lord Jack alone. I 
have a sort of — of a bet with his lordship, so 
he — he — 

Maria. Bless you, I understand {winks), I 
see you running up the gyarden after him 
this morning. His coat tails jus' flew out like 
he was — 

Jen. (hastily). Never mind all that. Do 
what you have undertaken, and, above all, 
do not breathe a word to that odious Mrs. 
Norval. 

Maria. Count on me, ma'am. She jus' 
hunts that pore dear boy. It's awful. I 
wonder how she can bring herself to do it. 
I'll jus' go look for him now. (Exit.) 

Jen. {sits hy table, r.). What would mamma 
say if she could see and hear me? Oh, dear! 
thej'e comes that tiresome Miss Eula and old 



THE JACK TRUST. 93 

Mrs. Bootliby. Now I must keep up my rep- 
utation as a self-made fool. [Leans head de- 
jectedly on her hands, sings "When love is 
young," etc.) 

[Enter Eula and Mrs. B. Mrs. B. sits on 
sofa,) 

Eula. How exquisite ! What finish ! and 
what a fearful cold you seem to have, Miss 
Capiani ! 

Jen. I have. 

Eula. I'm so sorry. Mrs. Boothby just 
wrote on her slate to say if you didn't mind 
singing in her ear-trumpet for an hour or so, 
she'd be mightily obliged. 

Jen. But I should mind exceedingly, and 
you may tell the old nuisance so, with my 
compliments. [Exit c.) 

Eula. There she goes after Lord Jack, I'll 
be bound. I never saw such bold audacity. 
I must fly to warn him. [Exit l.) 

(Mrs. B. crosses stage ; sits at table, r. ; plays 
solitaire,) 

[Enter Lord Jack and Maria, c.) 

Jack. You are sure I am safe, Maria? 



94 THE JACK TRUST. 

Maria. Of co'se. They're both lyin' down 
iip-stairs. 

Jack. Then I can sit down a minute, I 
suppose. [Sits on sofa ; lights cigarette,) Any 
prospect of a train soon, Maria, my dear ? 

Maria. I ain't none of your dears, Lord 
Jack, and there ain't nary prospect of a train 
at all. The rails is all tore up both ways. 
The ticket men says maybe there won't be 
trains for a week. 

Jack. A week ! If that's so, Maria, you 
can bet your sweet life those "tore up" rails 
won't be a patch to me if either of those girls 
finds me alone. 

Maria. Lawsey me ! whatever has your 
lordship done to 'em ? 

Jack. Done ! Nothing. The fact is — Sit 
down, Maria, and let me talk to you a bit. 
You're a deuced pretty girl, and look sympa- 
thetic. Can I trust you ? 

Maria {sits 07i sofa r. of Jack). Of co'se 
you can. ( Winks at audience.) 

Jack. The fact is, I'm a badly used fellow. 
The women simply drive me mad. 

Maria. Why don't you keep away from 
them ? (Laughs.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 95 

Jack. Keep away ! Come, now. I say, liow 
can I keep away when they follow me all over 
the country ? But we're 'way off the point. 
I want to appeal to your higher feelings. You 
have a tendency to laugh at my misfort- 
unes. 

Maria. Me laugh ! ( Winks at audience.) 

Jack. Yes, you. And it's not right. How- 
ever, I'm not angry at you. Here's a dollar 
for you to buy some ribbon or something. 
{^Gives her money,) And now I must speak 
seriously to you. You must understand that 
if either of these two girls finds me alone the 
consequences will be simply fearful. There ! 
you're laughing. 

Maria. Lawsey me ! I never ! ( Winks at 
audience,) I'm jus' full of sympathy at the 
way these gyurls do you. 

Jack (^grasping her hand). Listen ! Isn't 
that the swish of a petticoat outside ? Run, 
Maria, and see. 

Maria. Shucks ! You're nervous. Let go 
my hand. 

Jack. Let me hold it. You are my anchor 
— my— 

Maria (^jumping up), I'm not your any- 



96 THE JACK TRUST. 

thing. Idjits like you-uns can't hold prop- 
erty. (£Jxit, laughing.) 

Jack [looking after her). Cold girl ! But no 
matter. Thank Heaven ! she is not respon- 
sive. Three responsive females in one house 
are enough for any fellow. There's Eula — 
poor old soul ! — and Jennie, and Clorinda ; 
the last two are the most charming girls I 
ever loved. It's all very well to say I need 
not have engaged myself to them, but how 
could I help it ? [Bises ; comes down f.) It 
w^as moonlight on both occasions ; I was ex- 
cited on both occasions; so what more natural 
than to propose on both occasions? (Sighs.) 
Why, oh, why did they accept me? Why 
should they take my moonlit maunderings 
for earnest, after I had distinctly — yes, dis- 
tinctly, by Jove! — expounded to them my 
theory of Platonic friendship, and said I was 
not a marrying man. If, after that, they 
chose to take me seriously, I could only fly. 
( Walks about.) The idea of their following ! 
Beastly ill-bred ! Howling bad form, I call 
it. I'll tell them so pretty straight too if 
they do come near me. (Sits on sofa feet up. 
Sees old Mrs. B.) Ah, there's the ideal wom- 



THE JACK TRUST. 97 

an ! Can't overhear anything or answer 
back. Mce, inexpensive taste in dress. I 
really believe the poor old soul is gone on 
me. Everywhere I go she follows. Gad ! 
I s'pose it's magnetism that attracts the 
women to me. [Lights cigarette.) Poor lit- 
tle beggars ! There's Maria ! I've got her 
on a string too — trusting little creature ! 
(Closes his eyes.) Poor little girl! I must 
pull up. 

(^Enter Maria and Jennie, c. Maria points to 
Jack ; tiptoes off., c). 

Jack. Is that you, Maria ? 

Jen. No ; it's me. 

Jack. Who's me ? ( Opens his eyes ; springs 
up.) Oh ! By Jove ! I say — look here — you 
know — (^Edges to door., l.) 

Jen. (crossing to intercept him). You need 
not run away. 

Jack (devotedly). Run from you ! Jennie, 
how could you fancy such a thing ? 

Jen. How couldn't I? 

Jack. Don't you know you are the onl}?^ 
girl I ever loved ? Be seated. (Places chair 
L. of table.) 
7 



98 THE JACK TRUST. 

Jen. {sitting). It's no use, Jack ; I can't 
believe you. 

Jack {sitting on sofa, leaning across table). 
Let me explain. 

Jen. I shall be most happy. 

Jack. Oh, Jennie, do not look at me so cold- 
ly ! [Takes her hand.) Dear little hand ! Now, 
my dear girl — 

Jen. Let go my hand. I am not your dear 
girl. Don't dare to call me so. 

Jack (tenderly). Respected miss — 

Jen. {laughing). How absurd you are, Jack! 
{Coldly.) Let go my hand. I'm not at all 
amused. 

Jack {releasing her, rises; walks about), 
'Twas ever thus. I never had a dear gazelle — 

Jen. I am not at all interested in your live- 
stock. Please proceed with your explana- 
tion. 

Jack {rumpling his hair). Well, you see, 
it was something after this style. From my 
early infancy I have been betrothed to — to — 
the Lady — er — Editha — er — Cheshire, a plain 
girl, with a Roman nose and sandy ears — I 
mean hair — and big ears, and all that, you 
know. {Pauses,) 



THE JACK TRUST. 99 

Jen. Well ? 

Jack. Her estate adjoins ours, and so the 
family cooked up the match, although she had 
large feet, played Wagner's march from Lo- 
hengrin on the piano, and was a beastly tire- 
some girl. ( Wallcs about.) Tears, protesta- 
tions, all were vain. 

Jen. Surely you, an Englishman, did not 
cry? 

Jack {wildly), I did. Lady Editha would 
unnerve any one. But it was vain. I there- 
fore fled to America ; met you ; loved you 
madly; wrote to my haughty father, implor- 
ing his consent. He wired back, " Will cut 
off the entail unless you leave that American 
girl at once." 

Jen. {rushing to him). Oh, Jack ! I see it 
all. Why didn't you tell me all this be- 
fore ? 

Jack {embracing her). Because I hadn't 
made it up — my mind, I mean. I could not 
ask you to be a beggar's bride. {They sit on 
sofa.) 

Jen. {fondly). Love is enough. 

Jack. Yes ; but money is a good thing 
too. And now I have glorious news. My 



100 THE JACK TRUST. 

father's gout is moving up, and if all goes 
well — that is, if physicians are in vain — I 
shall be the happiest man alive, and you the 
Duchess of Grabshire, in two weeks. 

(Mrs.B. overturns table-with a crash; picks up 
cards; goes on playing.) 

Jen. Gracious ! I didn't know she was 
here. 

Jack. Never mind her. Tell me, are you 
satisfied ? 

Jen. No ! (Springs up ; walks about.) 
Who is this creeping, crawling serpent of 
a cat who dogs your footsteps? Who is 
she? 

Jack. Jupiter ! What do you mean by 
serpent of a cat, and all that, Jennie ? 

Jen. I mean Mrs. Norval, and you know 
it. 

Jack. Shouldn't have recognized the de- 
scription, give you my word. And if you 
come to recriminations, and all that, what do 
you mean by calling yourself a priina-donna, 
and yodling around here like a — a calliope, 
without a chaperon ? 

Jen. It's not my fault if the trains won't 



THE JACK TRUST. 101 

nino I only expected to stop over two hours, 
and see you. 

Jack. Exactly. It was most improper of 
you to come at all — so unwomanly, so beast- 
ly untrusting. Didn't I tell you you were the 
only girl I ever loved ? 

Jen. {sitting hy tahle^ l.). Yes ; but you ran 
away. 

Jack. Suppose I did. Or, rather, put it cor- 
rectly, I withdrew my idea from your con- 
sciousness. Very good. Then was your time 
to show your confidence in me, and wait de- 
cently at home. Look at Evangeline. She 
always kept right on trusting Gabriel. 

Jen. But she went after him, and she had 
no chaperon. 

Jack. She took her cow, and even a cow is 
better than nothing. Besides, she was not a 
society girl. And Fm amazed at you — amazed, 
by Jove ! 

Jen. (sobbing). Oh, Jack, jt^Zmse don't scold. 
I'm sure I never dreamed of doing any harm, 
and everything is so awful. And what would 
mamma say ? 

Jack [going to her). Don't cry, my dear girl. 
And go right to your room, and — and lie down. 



102 THE JACK TRUST. 

Jen. I'd rather stay here with you. 

Jack. And I with you. But the conven- 
tionalities ! Think of your mother. As soon 
as you can return to Stone Mountain, I will 
join you, and there, under your mother's wing, 
we'll be as happy as the day is long. 

Jen. You'll surely come ? 

Jack. Can you doubt me ? 

Jen. Jack, forgive me. [Exit, l., leaning on 
Jack's arm,) 

{^Enter Maria, c, laughing, Mrs.B. lays doion 
cards, laughs heartily,) 

Maria. " Jack, forgive me !" An' she hadn't 
done a thing. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! (^Sinks 
into chair; sees Mrs. B). Bless me! what's 
she cackling over? (Mrs. 1^, turns ; sees Ma- 
ria ; stops laughing; goes on with her game.) 
I s'pose she's beat herself. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

(^Re-enter Jack, i.,,, fanning himself,) 

Maria. I shall give up. 
Jack (^gloomily). What is the joke ? 
Maria [jumping up). Jus' a newspaper 
piece I was studyin' over, an' almos' died. 
Jack {sitting on chair, c). Indeed ! Look 



THE JACK TRUST. 103 

here, Maria ! How did Miss Patie happen to 
find me ? 

Maria. Miss Patie ? Who's she ? 

Jack. A slip of the tongue. I meant Miss 
Capiani. But no matter. I want to get up 
to my room, and Mrs. Norval is whisking 
about the hall. Go and see if the. coast is 
clear, and no funny business this time, Ma- 
ria. 

Maria. Funny business ! Lawsey me ! I 
couldn't help Miss Capiani findin' you. And 
you've hurt my feelin's. Yes, sir ; that's 
what ! i^Exit c.) 

Jack. A very pretty situation !— shut up 
with two ex-fiancees and a candidate for fian- 
ceeship. For all I know, old Mrs. Boothby is 
ready to join the dance. Down that tunnel 
of a sun-bonnet I seem to see two dim eyes 
saying, "Jack, I love you." If they only knew 
who I was — but no, I won't even whisper it. 
Flirtation is the spice of life. 

{Enter Clorinda suddenly^ c.) 

Clo. Good-morning, my lord. 
Jack {starting hack). It can't be ! It is ! 
{Springs to her ; takes hands.) It is my own 



104 THE JACK TRUST. 

Clorinda! When did you arrive, and where 
is Mrs. De Courcey ? 

Clo. • When did I arrive ? I like that ! 

Jack. So do I. It's no end jolly. 

Clo. Jolly ! Well, you are a humbug. 
Let go my hands. Jack. (Goes to chair, c.) 

Jack. You never objected at Marietta ; but, 
I see, you are fickle. 

Clo. I? 

Jack. No matter. If I had known you were 
coming I should have flown on the wings of 
love to greet you, Clorinda, and all that. 

Clo. Were you flying on the wings of love 
when I so nearly caught you this morning in 
the garden ? 

Jack. You ? this morning ? back garden ? 
I don't understand. I did rather hurry to es- 
cape from that odious Mrs. Norval, the dancer. 

Clo. (sarcastically). Then you really did not 
know that I am Mrs. Norval ? 

Jack. Married ? How delightful ! And 
where is Mr. Norval ? 

Clo. It's no use pretending ignorance. Jack. 
I came here intending to stop over one train, 
annihilate you, and return to Atlanta. Why 
my plan failed, you know. It was to prevent 



THE JACK TRUST. 105 

my name from being known that I've enacted 
the ballet girl, and you must admit IVe done 
it well. 

Jack. I jolly well like your idea. Jupiter ! 
To see you spinning about on your little toes 
all day, and compare it with the genuine arti- 
cle ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Clo. What do you know of the genuine 
article ? 

Jack. That's so. Why, nothing, except that 
common-sense tells me they don't skip like 
little hills all day. 

Clo. I don't care. I showed great pres- 
ence of mind. 

Jack. Great ! Only absence of body would 
have served you better. Doubtless you've 
thought of your mother's opinion of this es- 
capade. 

Clo. Oh yes. 

Jack. And the giggles of the girls ? 

Clo. Certainly. 

Jack. And the winks and nods and nudges ? 

Clo. (calmly), I've thought of everything. 

Jack. Well, I hope it will be a lesson. In 
my last letter I told you I was heart-broken 
by your silence. 



106 THE JACK TRUST. 

Clo. Did you write any letters ? 

Jack (sits by her). Stacks. At least two 
letters a day. And you never answered one. 

Clo. I never received any. 

Jack. Oh ! this ill-regulated Southern mail ! 

Clo. Oh ! this ill-regulated English male 
you mean, don't you ? (Laughs,) Not a bad 
pun for a girl, was it ? Come, try another tar- 
radiddle ; you tell them so well, so amus- 
ingly. 

Jack. Amusingly ! Clorinda, you are the 
only girl I ever loved. Can you doubt me ? 

Clo. I can, and do. 

Jack (leaning forward to gaze in her eyes), 
Clorinda, look into my eyes, and tell me if I 
look like a man to trifle with a fond and 
trusting heart. 

Clo. You look like a man who would flirt 
with his grandmother; and it will be time 
enough to trifle with my fond and trusting 
heart when you get it. 

Jack. You said you gave it me at Mari- 
etta. 

Clo. I dare say. But I wear it on an elas- 
tic, and snapped it in again. (Laughs,) 

Jack {rising), Clorinda, it's unfair to jump 



THE JACK TRUST. 107 

on me without hearing reason. My letters 
explained all, if you only had read them. 

Clo. i^risingy Why not tell me what was in 
them? As I said before, your tarradiddles 
are so amusing. Come, sit on the sofa. [Goes 
to sofa loith him ; sits on table, l.) Now, then, 
you left me in the conservatory, and flew to 
pack your bag — Proceed. 

Jack. Well, I went to my room, and — and — 
I say, Clorinda, might I smoke ? 

Clo. Certainly. 

Jack (takes out cigarette). Will you light it 
as you used at Marietta ? 

Clo. Certainly. (Business of lighting cig- 
arette.) 

Jack {sighs; sits on sofa). Blessed be smok- 
ing ! It's typical of life too, isn't it, Clorinda ? 
Nice things, dreams, and all that. Jolly for 
a bit, then only ashes ! 

Clo. Like your engagements, eh ? But pro- 
ceed. You went to your room — 

Jack. Yes, I went to my room, and — I 
say, isn't this jolly ? You and me together, 
with old Mrs. Boothby for chaperon. 

Clo. It's simply lovely ; but pray go on. 
You found a telegram, doubtless ? 



108 THE JACK TRUST. 

Jack. That's it. I found a telegram couch- 
ed in the most mysterious terms from — from — 

Clo. Ex-fiancee — girl you left behind you. 

Jack. Nothing of the sort. (Mrs. B. crosses 
staff e, JSxits, l.) 

Clo. There goes our chaperon. 

(EuLA, dressed exactly like Mrs. B., enters, c. ; 
goes to table, r. ; sits down,) 

Jack. What a restless old thing she is! 
But, Clorinda — won't you believe me? — you 
are the only girl I ever loved. 

Clo. Except Miss Capiani and Miss Eula. 

Jack. Poor old Eula ; she's a gushing old 
nuisance ! 

Clo. What an untind way to speak of your 
fiancee ! for Maria tells me it's all settled be- 
tween you and the evergreen Eula. 

Jack. Settled ! I wish it were — my board 
bill, I mean. Until my remittances arrive, I 
have to keep the old lady smoothed down. 
As for anything else, why, she might be my 
grandmother. 

Clo. Calm down. She's a charming an- 
tique, a fiawless relic of " befo' de wah," and 
as such deserves a place in your collection. 



THE JACK TRUST. 109 

Jack {springing up). My collection ! Clorin- 
da, why will you make game of me ? 

Clo. Game of you ! Impossible ! Even in 
America, where we run the wary aniseed bag 
to cover, and pop away at sparrows — even here 
we never to try to make game of — {Pauses; 
gets down from table.) 

Jack. Well? 

Clo. Donkeys, even if they are imported. 
[Exit c). 

Jack {running to door). Look here, I say! 
Jove, what a little vixen ? But I like spirit 
in a girl. {Comes down front ; sits astride of 
chair, effacing audience.) 

(Mrs. B. enters, l. ; sits at table, l. ; same pose 
as EuLA.) 

Jack. She was all broken up. Well, I can't 
help it if I was born fascinating. I'm not a 
self-made man, so there's no conceit in saying 
so. It's hard on the women, but that's not 
my fault. {Looks to r.; sees Eula.) There's 
my deaf-and-dumb belle. Looks like the 
figure-head of a ship. {Looks to l. ; sees Mrs. 
B.) How she skips about ! A minute ago 
she was over there. (^Look's r.) Why, she's 



110 THE JACK TRUST. 

back. (^Looks l.) Oh ! look here,~you know. 
IVe got 'em again. (Looks r.) No ; there 
are, there must be two of 'cm. (^Springs up; 
business of looking from r. to l.) Oh, this is 
awful ! There are two. (Backs to c. d. as 
EuLA a7id Mrs. B. advance.) 

EuLA. Flight will avail you little, my lord. 
(^Throws off bonnet.) In this disguise I have 
heard all. And now my eyes are open. I 
may be a gushing old nuisance, but I know 
my rights, and I'll trouble you to settle your 
account and leave my house. 

Jack. Eula, my darling ! 

EuLA. Oh yes, keep the old lady smoothed 
down until your remittances arrive. Back, 
perfidious man ! ( Waves him off. Mrs. B. 
imitates every gesture.) 

Jack. But, look here. Since you were here, 
you must have seen my fearful position be- 
tween those audacious girls. 

Eula. ^I couldn't see your face, but your 
voice sounded like you was enjoying your- 
self mightily. (Sobs.) 

Jack (with dignity). Wait. (Hands Eula 
to chair, l. Mrs. B., r., stands between 
them.) 



THE JACK TRUST. Ill 

Jack. Now, then, let us be cool. Eula, you 
are not a green girl. 

Eula. No ; I'm a g-g-gushing old nuisance. 
(Sobs.) 

Jack. Do not harp upon that. Let us for- 
get all the wretched past, and live in the 
blooming present, and all that. You are the 
only girl — 

Eula. You said that to them. (Sobs.) 

Jack. Exactly. You are the only girl I 
ever loved, I said to each of those bold girls, 
and it was true, insomuch as I never could, 
would, or should love any girl at all. 

Eula. I like that. (Sobs.) 

Jack. I thought you would. Ah, Eula, 
you are the only mature woman I ever loved. 
You are the realization of my dreams, and all 
that. Be, oh ! be my — 

Eula (starting up). Oh, my lord ! I will be 
your little wife. 

Clasps him fondly around his neck^ l., while 
Mrs. B. embraces hiin, r.) 

Jack. Look here ! I say ! I meant be my 
mother. Oh, I say ! 



112 THE JACK TRUST. 

(^Enter Maria, Clorinda, Jennie, l. Stand 
amazed,) 

Maria. He's done it this time, sure 'nuff. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

[Enter Mrs. B. ; goes to mirror^ arranges her 
bonnet ; sits on sofa ; plays solitaire. Enter 
Maria, counting money ; comes down front ; 
sits,) 

Maria. Two dollars from Miss Capiani and 
two from Mrs. Norval is four, and one from 
Lord Jack is five, and Miss Eula's pink silk 
what she wore befo' the fall of Richmond. 
{Ties money in handkerchief) I 'ain't done 
badly, an' I ain't a-carin' now if no trains 
don't come at all. I reckon pore Lord Jack 
feels different, though. Mrs. Norval, she 'mos' 
died of laffing 'cause he got himself engaged 
to Miss Eala ; but Miss Capiani, she looked 
mightily sober-sided. Yes, ma'am ; she's in 
love with him ; that's what ! 



THE JACK TRUST. 113 

{^Enter Clorinda, c. ; loalks quickly to Maria.) 

Clo. Maria, I want your help in a tremen- 
dous joke. You have a keen appreciation of 
satire, haven't you ? 

Maria [rising). No, ma'am ; I never use it. 

Clo. Pshaw ! I mean you like to see other 
people look silly. 

Maria {laughing). Oh, yes, indeed, ma'am. 

Clo. Well, it's the same thing. First, this 
is for you. [Gives her money,) 

Maria. Lawsey me ! you're sure 'nuff qual- 
ity. Thank you, ma'am. 

Clo. That's all right. Now I want you to 
manage to get Lord Jack behind this screen, 
and when he's there, come and tell me. 

Maria. But s'pose he won't go ? 

Clo. Won't go ! Get him in here on some 
pretence, then tell him I'm coming, and sug- 
gest the screen as a hiding-place. You'll have 
no trouble. 

Maria. Lawsey me ! AVhat a merry lady 
you are, and how you do do that pore boy ! 

Clo. "That pore boy" needs a lesson. 
You'll find me in the office. (JSxit, laughing.) 

Maria. Now what ever is she goin' to do ? 
8 



114 THE JACK TRUST. 

(Mrs. B. comes behind her, taps her on shoulder y 
points after Clorinda.) 

Maria. Crickey ! how you scared me ! Go 
an' find out for yourself. (Gesticulates vio- 
lently/. Exit Mrs. B.) There's a nice old 
bunch of curiosity — deaf an' dumb, an' f'rever 
pokin' an' pry in' like she was a magpie ; an' I 
'ain't never seen her face yet. 

{Enter Lord Jack, c.) 

Maria. The very thing ! Come here, your 
lordship. 

Jack. Don't bother, Maria. You're pretty, 
and all that ; but I've had a genteel sufficien- 
cy, as you say, of girls, pretty or otherwise. 
If a train don't come soon, I'll be a corpse. 
(^Sinks in chair by table, l.) 

Maria [platting him on the back). Cheer up, 
my lord ; if the worst comes to the worst, I 
can save you. 

Jack. Nothing can save me but flight. 

Maria. Well, I know that. ( Whispers to 
him.) 

Jack. What if your brother has got a 
mule? 



THE JACK TRUST. 115 

Maria. You can run away on it for five 
dollars. 

Jack [jumping up), Maria, you are an angel ! 
When will it be ready ? 

Maria. Whenever the money is. 

Jack. Done ! (Gives her money,) Now run. 
Have it at the side door, and when all is pre- 
pared, come — No, we must be cautious. 
Whistle this way (whistles bugle call), and I'll 
slip out. 

Maria (makes several attempts to vjhistle ; 
finally succeeds). How's that? (Goes to 
door, c.) 

Jack. Fine. 

Maria. Oh, hide ! Quick ! Get behind 
that screen. Mrs. Nerval is comin' down 
the hall. 

Jack. Gad, Fll run for it! (Goes to 
door,c.) 

Maria. Hush ! She's here. (Pushes him 
behind screen, n, c.) 

Jack. Remember the mule ! 

Maria. Count on me. ( Winks to audience ; 
comes down front,) I'd as soon help him as any 
other; an' Mrs. Nerval, she can try lookin' silly 
herself. Yes, ma'am ; that what ! (Exit c.) 



116 THE JACK TRUST. 

[Enter Clorinda, Jennie, l. ; followed by Mrs. 
B., loho sits, L., facing screen,) 

Clo. (going to c). I have a little business, 
proposition to make, Miss Capiani,.and as it 
concerns Lord Jack, I presume you will be 
interested. 

Jen. I knew you knew him. 

Clo. Why shouldn't I ? I was once en- 
gaged to him. (Laughs.) 

Jen. Jack engaged to a skirt dancer ! Im- 
possible ! 

Clo. Ah ! but I'm not a skirt dancer. I'm 
just an ordinary goose of a girl like yourself, 
engaged in a most undignified pursuit. 

Jen. I consider all this highly impertinent. 

Clo. Keep cool. Come, let us sit down 
and talk reasonably. (They sit, c.) To be 
brief, here are you, I, and Miss Eula, all en- 
gaged to Lord Jack. Very good. You will 
admit we can't all marry him. 

Jen. (rising). Oh, this is dreadful ! 

Clo. (pulling her back). Don't be a ninny, 
my dear. Any female under ninety can twist 
Jack around her finger, and if there were more 
girls here he'd be engaged to them all. 



THE JACK TRUST. 117 

Jen. I suppose lie would. 

Clo. Undeniably. So why not enter into 
the affair in a business-like manner, as men 
do. We read of sugar trusts, whaat trusts, 
iron trusts ; why not get up a Jack trust ? 

Jen. a Jack trust ! What is a trust ? I'm 
sure we've trusted Jack enough now. Too 
much. 

Clo. Oh, in a trust, it's the other fellow 
who does the trusting, don't you see. Don't 
you ever read the newspapers ? 

Jen. No. Mamma says they are not fit 
reading for me. 

Clo. Well, my mamma is broader in her 
views. Consequently I know several things 
which seem to have escaped your attention. 
Let me see how I can explain. First, some 
men get together all there is of some special 
article, and say, " Let's form a trust." That 
knocks the small dealer out of sight. Then 
the public trust the trust company, and the 
trust company trust each other until one of 
them skips to Canada, and that winds up the 
trust and the trust company. See ? 

Jen. No, I don't. What has this to do 
with Jack ? 



118 THE JACK TRUST. 

Clo. Good gracious ! AVhat a pity you 
never read the papers ! Here ! (^Rises ; kneels 
on chair, facing Jennie.) There's only one 
Jack, who comes high, but all want him. 
Very good ; you and I make a trust of him, 
and Miss Eula is out of the game. See ? 

Jen. Yes ; that will be nice. 

Clo. Then we run the- trust till one of us 
gets him. See ? 

Jen. Oh ! It's like a jack pot, isn't it ? 

Clo. Not a bit. There's no "anteing up." 
Besides, in poker, one jack don't make " a full 
house," while in this game he does. [Laughs,) 
That's pretty good for a girl. I wish there 
was some man here to take the point. 

Jen. {aside). What a vulgar girl ! [Aloud.) 
I hardly see your idea yet, Mrs. Norval. 

Clo. Oh, sugar ! I'll write out a neat little 
promise to marry for each of us. The first 
to find Jack alone presents it, wheedles him 
into singing it, and voila ! the Jack trust is 
dissolved. One skips with the boodle — Jack 
— and the other has the experience. See ? 

Jen. (starting up). Oh, you clever girl ! And 
he couldn't run away after signing a paper ? 

Clo. Um ! Well, I've heard of it being 



THE JACK TRUST. 119 

done. But it would be a business-like affair, 
and relieve us of the necessity of being a frac- 
tion of a fiancee, which is degrading. (Jack's 
head appears over top of screen.) 

Jen. It's just splendid ! Write the agree- 
ment now. 

Clo. {going to table, r., sits ; Jennie behind 
her), I'll take a page out of the register. 
( Writes.) " Whereas I, Jack Townley, being 
sane and of sound mind." How's that? 

Jen. It sounds legal and binding. 

Clo. Yes, it's legal, but it isn't true. Le- 
gal facts generally are not. ( Writes.) "And 
most anxious to marry — •" That's not even 
a legal fact, but it's necessary. [Writes.) "Do 
hereby desire and agree and consent to wed " 
— blank for name — "party of the second part, 
whenever she likes." Now how shall I end 
it? 

Jen. Something about my seal, you know, 
and a red wafer. 

Clo. Oh, yes ! " Witness my hand and 
seal." Now for your copy. ( Writes rapidly.) 
There ! But we have no wafer. 

Jen. {taking out purse). Would postage- 
stamps do ? 



120 THE JACK TRUST. 

Clo. They might make it seem more for- 
mal. Stick them on. 

Jen. (stiching on stamps), Now I suppose 
the first one to catch Jack will be the lucky 
one ? (^Looking around.) I wonder where he 
is ? (Jack's head disappears.) 

Clo. {looking at screen). I imagine he is not 
far away. (^Gives Jennie paper.) There is 
your copy. And now, vogue la galere ! Each 
for herself, and the, etc., etc. [Laughs.) How 
nervous the dear boy would be if only he could 
hear our little plot ! 

Jen. Yes ; wouldn't he ? Shall we start 
now ? 

Clo. I'm ready. Which way are you go- 
ing? 

Jen. To the garden. 

Clo. {taking her arm). So am I. 

Jen. {disengaging herself ). I meant up-stairs. 

Clo. So did I. 

Jen. Oh, dear! Excuse me, Mrs. Norval, 
but don't you see I want to go alone ? 

Clo. {laughing). So do I. 

Jen. {aside). I can easily outrun her. 
{Aloud.) Pardon me for leaving you. {Exit, 
c, running.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 121 

Clo. Poor girl ! She's all broken up. I do 
hope she will find him. ( Very loud,) I won- 
der where Jack can be ? [Looks at screen ; 
goes to it; shakes it.) He might be here. 
( Winks at audience.) No ; he never could 
keep so still. I'll go hunt him up. 

{^Exit^ c, laughing and waving paper, Mrs. 
^^. follows.) 

Jack {coming out, drops on sofa). Jove ! I 
feel like a confounded rabbit ! Regularly 
hunted, and all that. It's all very amusing 
to be an irresistible, but I've gone a little too 
far. Of course that absurd paper amounts 
to nothing, as I could marry neither under 
existing circumstances, but I might sign it. 
In fact, I should sign it ; I know I should. 
I simply cannot resist a woman. So my only 
hope is Maria and the mule. 

(Enter Clorinda, c, waving paper.) 

Jack. Gad ! (Jumps up) ; runs across stage.) 
Clo. (following). Just a moment. Jack dar- 
ling ! 

Jack (running). Can't stop. You're the 
only girl I ever loved. 



122 THE JACK TRUST. 

(^Bolts out J L., pursued hy Clorinda. They 
re-enter^ c, cross stage l. /o r. ; haclc ; exitj l. 
Jack re-enters^ c.,out of breath; goes to r.) 

Jack. She's missed me ; I doubled on her 
in the hall. Where is that mule ? 

(^Enter Jennie, l. ; runs to Jack. They dodge 
about stage while talking.) 

Jack. Very sorry, but I can't stop. 
Jen. Oh, Jack, please wait. 
Jack. You're the only girl I ever loved. 
Let me be near thee. 

(^Rushes out, L., Jennie after, as Maria en- 
ters, c.) 

Maria [holding up her hands). My lawsey 
me ! The mule's ready, and there he goes, 
with that horrid gyurl chasin' him like he 
was a 'coon ! I'll whistle to warn him. 

( Whistles bugle call. Jack, Jennie, Clorin- 
da dash in; dodge around stage.) 

Jack (breathlessly). Can't stop. [Exit, c.) 
Clo. Hold on ! [Exit, c.) 



THE JACK TRUST. 123 

[Enter Eula, l.; stands amazed.) 

Jen. {holding hand to her side). Jack, 
wait ! [Exit, c.) 

Maria. Crickey ! what fun ! [Exit^ c, 
whistling,) 

Eula. My poor dear boy ! Til tear tlieir 
eyes out. (Eollows, c.) 

{Enter Mrs. B.,l.) 

Mrs. B. {throws off sun-honnet ; slips out 
of old dress), Fll take a hand myself, and 
save his fascinating life. {Exit, c.) 

(Jack, Clorinda, Jennie, Maria, Eula, Mrs. 
B. run in L,, out c, Girls crying, '' Wait !" 
Jack, " Can't stop !") 

Mrs. B. {re-entering, l., laughing). It is too 
perfectly absurd ! 

{Stands, c. Jack, entering, l., stops suddenly, 
facing her. Girls, following, stop in line 
slanting from l. to c. exit.) 

Jack. Clementine ! 

Mrs. B. Yes, Jack, my dear. Pray present 
me to your friends, who have only known 
me as " old Mrs. Boothby." 



124 THE JACK TRUST. 

Jack. Yoii old Mrs. Bootliby ! 

All. You? 

Mrs. B. [laughing). Yes, I. But pray pre- 
sent me, Jack. 

Jack. Certainly, my darling. [Crosses to 
her, R. Takes her hand.) Ladies, let me 
present to you — my — er — ^er — ahem ! wife. 

All. Your wife? 

Jack. Yes, my adorable wife. Oh, Clemen- 
tine, you — you are the only girl I ever loved. 

Mrs. B. [laughing archly/). So old Mrs. 
Boothby told me. Ah, Jack and ladies, I 
thank you very sincerely for the comedy you 
have played for me. 

Jack. I knew you all the time. 

Mrs. B. Oh, you goose ! But I forgive you. 

Jack [embracing her). I knew you would. 
[Bell rings.) By Jove ! the train. 

Jen. What will mamma say ? 

Clo. Suppose we go and see. 

EuLA. I — I never could endure him. 
[Faints.) 

Maria [placing her in chair). Lawsey me ! 
Hole up your head. Miss Eula. This ain't 
the first time you've been left, an' you orter 
be used to it. Yes, ma'am ; that's what ! 



THE JACK TRUST. 125 

Mrs. B. Jack, shall we go ? 
Jack. Certainly, my darling. (Advancing 
front) 

The joint-stock gone, the holders ''bust," 
The "Jack Trust" ends as all trusts must. 
.The moral is— you'll all agree— 
One can have too much luck like me. 

TABLEAU. 

Maria. Clorinda. Jennie. Jack. 
EuLA. Mrs. B. 

quick CURTAIN. 



THE YEKEERED SAYAGE. 



CHARACTERS. 

Lou Dayton A Chicago belle. 

Madge Dayton Her younger sister. 

Dick Majendie Cousin to the sisters. 

The Duchkss op Diddlesex. 

Lady Fanny .... Her daughter^ a silent young person. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn Her son^ a still more 

silent young person. 
Place, London. 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 



ACT. I. 



Pleasant interior, Lou and Madge, in ordi- 
nary house dress ^ reading a letter together as 
curtain rises. They read itj turn and look 
long at each other ^ as if in amazement^ hut 
still in silence, Madge walks towards hack 
of stage ^ Lou still holding letter ; throws let- 
ter angrily on table l. f., seats herself in 
chair R. of table. Knock at door. 

Mad GB (turning). Come! 

[Enter Dick Majendie. Both girls rush to 
him, each seizing an arm^ they bring him 
down to foot-lights^ exclaiming together " Oh, 
Cousin Dick !" 

Lou. Ob, Dick ! I am so glad ! You are 
the very man we want to see ! 
9 



130 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Madge. Cousin Dick ! My dear Dick ! We 
did so want to see you ! 

Dick. Why that is just what Lou said. 
What is the matter that you both look so 
blue, and are so desperately fond of me ? I 
never noticed anything of this kind in Amer- 
ica. Are you home-sick already ? or is some- 
thing wrong about your luggage ? Or per- 
haps you are not over the motion of the 
steamer yet. You came on the Servia, didn't 
you ? I don't like the Servia, 

Lou. Motion of the steamer — nonsense ! 

Madge. Now, Dick, don't be stupid. 

Lou. No, Dick ; donH be dull. 

Dick. But, girls — 

Madge. Can't you see we are angry ? 

Lou. Yes — furious ! 

(Lou and Madge talking together,) 

Lou. Yes, and I can just tell you — 
Madge. For my part, T will just say — 
Dick ( toho has been frantically turning 
from one to the other). Oh, my poor cars ! For 
Heaven's sake, girls, one at a time, please! 

Lou. Well, I suppose you remember the 
son of the Duke of Diddlesex ? 

Madge. You know, Dick, that red, gawky 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 131 

young Englishman Avho visited us so long in 
Chicago ? 

Dick. No. I know the Duchess very well, 
but her son is on a hunting expedition — Nor- 
way, Africa, something of the sort — I have 
never seen him. 

Lou. My dear Dick, we are talking of 
America. He visited us in Chicago. Why, 
he was with us three months. 

Dick. But I was here. You forget that I 
have been in England the last two years. 

Madge. Never mind that ; the point is we 
have had a letter from the Duchess. 

Lou. Yes, from the Duchess. 

Dick. The duchess ! Which ? As an 
American I am the fashion, and know as 
many duchesses as Buffalo Bill. 

Lou. Well, as we have only been in Lon- 
don one night, we only know one duchess — 
by letter — the Duchess of Diddlesex. 

Madge. And to think that her son spent 
two months with us — 

Lou [raising her voice). Three months — 

Madge [jerking Dick away hy the arm^ 
and marching him wp the stage and hack). It 
is the most outrageous piece of business ! 



132 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Lou {^ jerking Dick hy other arm^ marching 
him away and hack in same manner). It is 
exactly what I have always heard of the Eng- 
lish as a nation. They are rude — 

Madge. Pig-headed — 

Lou. Sneering — 

Madge. Supercilious ! 

^^^ \ {h h h \ S^ despise them ! 

Madge P ^ ^^^ ^^)- -j j ^^si^ them ! 

Dick. But why — what — where — how — 
what — what — what is it all about? If you 
will kindly explain before I — 

Lou {seizing letter and crumpling it into 
his hand). There ! read that ! 

(Dick seats himself on table, l. f. ; Lou sits 
R. of table ; Madge stands l. of Dick, look- 
ing over his shoulder,) 

Dick {reading), "My dearest Sophie — " 
{Stops short ; stares.) 

Both Girls. Oh, go on ! go on ! 

Dick {reading), "Dearest Sophie, — You 
might not have known that you dine with me 
to-day without faiV (tremendously under- 
scored), "but you do. Consider me as a 
sinking ship, or what you please, in dire dis- 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 133 

tress, and come to my rescue, whatever your 
other engagements. That is Kismet — at 
least it is mamma, which is the same thing, 
you know. I am now despatching a note of 
invitation to two Choctaw princesses from 
the West, Miss Louise Dayton and her young- 
er sister, Madge — " (Dick stops, whistles, 
stares at girls,) 

Madge (^giving him a little shake). Go on ; 
the best is yet to come. 

Dick (^reading), '' I forget precisely wheth- 
er their native prairie village is called Detroit, 
Duluth, Kalamazoo, or Chicago. American 
geography is such a bore, with its barbarous 
nomenclature, one never can remember ! One 
gets a little tired of Americans, except Buf- 
falo Bill, who is charming. He never pre- 
tends to anything English. He reveals him- 
self the simple aborigine. But the usual 
American girl — the veneered savage in the 
Worth gown, talking about her ' family ' (save 
the mark 1), coming here to waltz with the 
Prince of Wales, and hunt a possible hus- 
band among us — I am positively sick of 
her, and cannot see why our men rave so 
about American wit and beauty. For my 



134 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. _ 

part, I think they are simply pert and 
scrawny — " 

Lou (interrupting). Sweet creature ! How 
I burn to see her — and have her see me ! 

Dick. Hold on ! here is the cream of the 
letter. Listen. (^Reads.) " However, they 
are inevitable, these Choctaw ladies — at least 
Howard is peremptory about them. He has 
written again and again from Norway, not to 
• mention a dozen telegrams, and is coming 
home simply to meet them. I have never 
known him so earnest about anything; as 
mamma says, he is evidently epris of one of 
them. Pleasant prospect for the House of 
Diddlesex, is it not? Still the prairie princess 
is not yet covered with our strawberry leaves, 
and before that is accomplished she will meet 
and reckon with mamma. Mamma says we 
are to humor Howard, overiohelm them with 
courtesies, play them as one does a trout, 
and at the right moment cut the whole affair 
short. But it is not necessary for me to no- 
tice them in any way. You understand, you 
are to come to talk to me, and we can amuse 
ourselves. Be sure you come to keep me in 
countenance and patience. Yours, as ever, 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 135 

Fanny." A very pleasant note, upon my 
word ! I never thought there was so much 
malice in Lady Fanny. She seems a jolly 
little soul ; has been awfully kind to me, I 
assure you. 

Lou [sarcastically). Of course, you are a 
man, I dare say she could even manage to 
recollect the name of your native prairie. 

Dick. But how did this note come into 
your hands? Sophie is her sister-in-law, 
Lady Delancy, I fancy. 

Madge. That is simple. She wrote two 
notes at the same time. She says I am de- 
spatching a note of invitation. Don't you 
see — present tense? Very good; when all 
that spite and jealousy about American girls 
was poured out, there was nothing left in her 
but — her native idiocy ; so she enclosed the 
notes in the wrong envelopes, and Sophie, 
whoever she is, is now reading our invitation 
to Diddlesex House, just as we have been 
reading hers. 

Lou {who has been walking about in a brown- 
study), I have it ! 

Dick. What? 

Lou. An idea. She is tired of the rec^ula- 



136 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. _ 

tion American girl — the veneered savage in 
a Worth gown, pretending to be English — 
and she likes Buffalo Bill. She shall have 
Buffalo Bill in petticoats — two of him — eh, 
Madge ? 

Madge [rushes doion to r.). Yes ! 

Lou. She shall have no cause to regret her 
Abyssinians. 

Madge (dap'ping her hands). We will go 
Zulu ! 

Lou. Have you told them anything about 
us yet, Dick ? 

Dick. Not a word. But if you seriously 
mean a masquerade — 

Lou. Bright boy ! That is precisely it. 

Dick. It would be very undignified, and 
you never could carry it out. 

Madge. Oh, couldn't we ? I have not for- 
gotten my school-days yet. [Gives an infan- 
tine yodle, sMms across the stage and hack.) 
There, isn't that something in the style of a 
prairie princess? 

Lou. But, Dick {coaxingly), dear Dick, 
there are some things you must tell us. 

Madge. Yes; slang, you know, and all 
that. I have one of Bret Harte's California 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 137 

stories and an article on ^'Bucolic Dialect of 
the Plains," which we can study up ; but the 
only bit of slang I remember just now is — 
playing it — er — playing it rather low down. 

Dick That is exactly what you. two girls 
intend to do. 

Lou (^pouting). Never mind him, Madge ; 
we can read Bret Harte for ourselves between 
now and this evening, and learn enough in 
half an hour to astonish Lady Fanny. But 
there is something you must explain, Dick, 
and that is poker ; the terms, I mean — two of 
a kind, and all that. Papa would not allow 
us to learn the game. 

Dick {teasingly). Then it is quite impossi- 
ble. I could not explain my conduct to my 
uncle if I did. 

Madge. Nonsense ! You care so much, 
no matter what papa might say ! Come 
away, Lou. Don't you see we shall get no 
assistance from him ? 

Dick. No ; I disapprove of the whole affair. 

Lou. My dear cousin Dick, have we asked 
for your approbation ? This is our under- 
taking. But as a gentleman I presume you 
will keep silence. 



138 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Dick [haughtihj). You presume ! 

Madge {soothingly). Of course he will be 
silent, Lou. He is an American, is he not? 
and are American men ever anything but gal- 
lant and courteous to women ? '^ Strawberry 
leaves," indeed ! ( Walking angrily up and 
down,) An honest, well-bred American gen- 
tleman [seizes Dick by the arm) is worth ev- 
ery ducal coronet in England. 

[Marches Dick across stage,) 

Dick {laughing). Thanks, my little cousin. 
What man would not prize a true-hearted 
American girl ? 

Lou {following them imjoatiently). Never 
mind heroics, but listen. Fortune is propi- 
tious to us. I have just remembered that we 
have with us the very gowns for the occasion. 
Our Mexican costumes, you know, Madge. 

Dick. You will never wear those costumes 
here — to Middlesex Castle ? Oh, girls, girls, 
do reflect ! 

Lou. My good cousin Dick, don't you see 
that is just what we are doing? I am about 
it this moment ; for, of course, we must have 
sobriquets. 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 139 

Dick {stupefied). Sobriquets? 

Madge. Of course. Don't you see ? So- 
briquets to matcli the gowns. Something 
glaring and impossible. I have it ! 

Lou AND Dick. Well ? 

Madge. Lightning Lou — (all laugh) — and 
Mashing Madge. Aren't they just too deli- 
ciously vulgar ! 

Dick {laughs heartily^ then suddenly grows 
serious). This is all very droll here. But, 
girls — Lou, Madge — consider how strange! 
how unladylike ! 

Lou. Spare your remonstrances. It is 
done settled. I shall send those names up 
on our cards. 

Madge {dancing about). Yes, yes. Light- 
ning Lou and Mashing Madge ! Oh, W'hat a 
joke ! 

Lou. You see, Dick, we are quite deter- 
mined. There is only one course left for you 
— to be there in good season, ana lose none 
of the fun. 

Madge. And pray, to avoid monotony, 
why should I not play the well-known Amer- 
ican spoiled child, the overgrown girl who 
hardly knows her letters, has no manners. 



140 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

and should be in short skirts, but who is al- 
ready in society and has love affairs. I'll 
c^oit! 

(Dick shrugs his shoulders, and lualks to door,) 

Lou. But — an awful thought ! — the duch- 
ess and her daughter have called, but we were 
not at home, and this note to Sophie — well, 
it speaks of dinner. Was it to dine we were 
asked ? 

Dick. Yes, to dine at eight. I am sure, 
for I was invited to meet you. (^Recollecting 
himself,) Now, why did I tell you ? If I 
had not, you could not have gone. 

Lou. So sorry. 

Madge {sweeping him a courtesy). Au re- 
voir, cousin. (^Goes to door loith Lou. Exit 
Lou, Madge coming back.) You are not 
really angry, are you, cousin ? I should hate 
to think you were really displeased. 

Dick. My dear little Madge, it would be 
hard to be really angry with you. I am 
vexed, in an elder-brother way, with your 
folly, that is all. Even now, it is not too 
late. 

Madge (running away to door). Yes, it is, 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 141 

Dick, much too late. Nothing would per- 
suade me not to x^epay that contemptuous 
young woman in her own coin, and show her 
whether American hospitality is designing or 
not, and whether we entertained her brother 
out of hearty good-will or no. I fancy we 
shall succeed in making it clear to her how 
highly we two Choctaws value the strawberry 
leaves and other Diddlesex accessaries with- 
out good-will. 

(^Waves her hand, gives Dick a moclcing bow, 
goes out laughing.) 

Dick. Were there ever such madcaps ! 
And they will do it ; there's not a doubt of 
that. They'll carry it out. I won't go ! I'll 
be ill — dead — ^out of town. Hang it ! I will 
go, if only to see fair play. [Lights a cigar,) 
I must smoke on all this. In their Mexi- 
can dresses. {Puffs at cigar, walks about,) 
Lightning Lou and Mashing Madge. Atro- 
cious ! And the Duchess of Diddlesex, that 
most proper woman, she will never recover 
from the blow. And Lady Fanny ! Who 
would suppose that little person could show 
so spiteful ! {Paces up and down again.) 



142 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Gad, what a hateful letter ! and how hard on 
the girls ! Amazing how women claw each 
other. I am half inclined — By Jove, I 
will ! Why not ? [Laughs.) Yon will be 
Buffalo Bill in petticoats, will you, my pretty 
cousins? Then, pray, why not I Buffalo Bill 
himself — a ranch king, rather, or prairie 
prince, in huge hat, gay sash, pistols, etc. ? 
Why not? The duchess shall infer that I 
am like the educated African, who goes back 
to his breech-cloth and savagery at the first 
tap of the Voudoo drum. I'll blossom out 
as the American aborigine at the first glimpse 
of ray prairie cousins. Good ! Excellent ! 
It will be worth it all to see Lou and Madge 
on their first glance at me. [Goes out whist- 
ling.) 



CURTAIN. 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 143 



ACT 11. 

Handsome interior at Diddlesex Castle, Cur- 
tain rises on Duchess, Lord Algernon 
Penryhn, and Lady Fanny, in dinner dress, 
grouped at n, c. of stage opposite entrance on 
L. Footman announces " Mr. Majendie." 
Dick enters in wide sombrero, pistol and 
knife in red sash, high boots and spurs, 
tvide collar, loose jacket. He affects a the- 
atrical swagger, bows low to the group. 

Duchess {eying him through her glass). Mr. 
— er — Mr. Majendie ! 

Lady Fanny. Or one of Tassand's wax- 
works. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn [staring through 
monocle): By Jovc ! * 

Dick (bowing). Dick Majendie, as much at 
your service as ever, Duchess. I have mere- 
ly returned to my native costume. I saw my 
American cousins this morning — 

Lady Fanny [to nobody in particular). Ah, 
that explains. 



144 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Dick (turniyig quickly), I beg your par- 
don. You said — 

Lady Fanny. Nothing, Mr. Majendie. You 
are quite mistaken. 

Dick (bows, and turns to Duchess). Con- 
sider me, Dueliess, as a victim to — 

(Enter Footman bringing cards. Duchess 
looks at them as if petrified^ re-examines 
them, hands them to Dick.) 

Duchess. How very extraordinary! Per- 
haps you can explain these — er — singular 
names, Mr. Majendie ? 

Dick (reads aloud), " Lightning Lou, nee 
Dayton ; Mashing Madge, nee Dayton." 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

Lady Fanny. Doubtless another American 
peculiarity. 

Dick (aside). Spiteful little creature ! 
(Aloud,) Precisely, as you say, another Amer- 
ican custom. Perhaps we should not pre- 
sume to have ways of our own ; but if you 
find us very barbarous, remember that we can- 
not all be born in England, you know. 

Lady Fanny (to her brother). He never 
was so disagreeable before. It is all the do- 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 145 

ing of those intolerable American cousins. 
I know it. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

(Footman announces loudly^ "Lightning Lou, 
nee Dayton; Mashing Madge, nee Day- 
ton.") 
Dick {coming down l. f.). Ye gods ! 

{Enter Lou and Madge brilliantly dressed in 
Mexican costumes, skirts clearing ankles, 
showing Suede slippers, black lace stockings, 
short scarlet jackets embroidered with gold 
opening over 'white silk shirts, and black-and- 
gold sashes, dagger and pistol worn on chat- 
elaine, large piece of lace or gauze worn on 
head as mantilla, Madge wears flowing 
hair ; both have a profusion of Rhine-stone 
jewelry, and carry large fans, which they 
use with much coquetry, Madge, without 
noticing a^nybody in room, saunters about ex- 
amining bric-a-brac) 

Lou {advancing, assured and condescending). 
The Duchess of Diddlesex, I presume. So 
glad to meet you, and your sister {glances 
at Lady Fanny) — no, daughter, is it not? 
Though we hardly thought we could spare 
10 



146 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

time to come to you. There is so mucli else 
that is really interesting. {^Fans herself and 
stares hard,) 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

Lady Fanny. What savages ! 

Dick (laughing aside). One for the Duch- 
ess. 

Madge {turns abruptly). Walk light there, 
Lou. Of course the Duchess knows how it 
is herself. But {to Duchess), as I told Lou, 
we had heard so much of you from Howard. 

Duchess. Howard ! 

Madge. Yes, Howard ! He is your son, 
isn't he ? Howard Diddlesex. And he talk- 
ed so much about you and the old gentle- 
man — 

Duchess. The old gentleman ! 

Dick {coyning forward). My cousin means 
the Duke, I fancy. 

(Lou and Madge look at Dick and start.) 

Lou {aside to him). You are a dear good 
fellow ! 

Madge. Your cousin, Dick Majendie, 
means, as she generally does, just about 
what she says. And as I was saying, Duch- 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 147 

ess, I told Lou we'd just chip rigbt in, in a 
sociable way. So you needn't trot out your 
company ways for us. (Lou and Dick laugh 
aside,) 

Duchess. Company ways ! Chip right in ! 
I do not quite follow. 

Lou. Oh, Duchess, you must pardon my 
little sister's school -girl slang; she is only 
fourteen, you know. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn (staring through 
glass). By Jove ! 

Lady Fanny. Only fourteen ; nonsense ! 

Madge (giving a skip). Good-sized girl, 
ain't I ? 

(Lady Fanny turns disdainfully away, Dick 
draws Madge's arm protectingly through 
his.) 

Lou (fanning herself and eying Lord Al- 
gernon Penryhn with marked coquetry). 
Only fourteen, I assure you. Duchess, and, as 
you see, irrepressible. Indeed, that is why 
we came abroad, she had so many love aifairs. 

Duchess (horror-struck). So many love 
affairs ! A girl of fourteen ! Are such things 
possible in your country ? 



148 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Lady Fanny (aside). The Uast Indian sav- 
ages marry at nine years of age. 

Madge. You bet they are, Duchess. (Ski2ys 
over to her side.) Why, ma and pa were reg- 
ularly rattled. They calculated I was sure 
to marry Jack Peyton. So I was, only [pokes 
Duchess tvith her fan) ma said I might come 
over here, and pa promised me a diamond 
necklace that should lay all over Flossie 
Skegg's — I mean her last one, that she does 
her marketing in. 

Duchess. I do not comprehend. What is 
doing her marketing ? 

Lou. Why, ordering in th6 meat for din- 
ner, and the garden sass, green things, milk, 
and eggs, you know. [Aside to Dick.) How 
was that, Dick ? Madge outshines me in this 
line. 

Lady Fanny. And you order groceries 
and— truck — in diamonds ? 

Madge {impertinently). We order groceries 
in paper bags ; but we certainly wear our di- 
amonds when we do it, if that is what you 
mean. No lady in Chicago would go shop- 
ping in less than $1500 worth of diamonds. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. Oh, by Jove ! 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 149 

Lou {turning sharply on him). An excel- 
lent country for penniless younger sons — to 
marry in. 

Lady Fanny (aside). Insolent creature ! 

Lord Algernon Penryhn (struggles with 
a speech^ opens his mouthy shuts it, says again). 
By Jove ! 

Duchess (^courteously to Madge). I noticed 
you were looking at that little copy of Mi- 
chael Angelo's — 

Madge. Michael Angelo ? Oh yes, I know. 
He painted that portrait of E. P. Strong ; 
you know, Lou, Strong, the pork-packer. 

Duchess. Oh ! ah ! doubtless another per- 
son — 

(Lou interrupts her by singing a refrain from 
" Erminie.'''' Duchess stops in marJced 
manner ; draws herself up.) 

Lou (speaking over her shoulder). Excuse 
me. Duchess ; but, you see, we are untram- 
melled children of the West. Prairie prin- 
cesses, as it were. (Glances at Lady Fanny, 
who starts.) I am afraid we shock you. 

Duchess (courteously). Oli, not at all. But 
may I show you some of my paintings ? 



150 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Here is a prairie scene that may interest 
you. 

Lou {skips up^ hooks her arm ivithin the 
Duchess's). Prairie ! I should smile ! Just 
say prairie, and Fm all there. You under- 
stand, a prairie gets me. 

( They go out, Duchess doing the amiable, Dick 
and Lord Algernon Penryhn converse l. c. 
Madge takes c. of stage ; stands contemplat- 
ing Lady Fanny, who is seated r. c.) 

Madge. Are you ill ? 

Lady Fanny. Certainly not. 

Madge. Have you any broken bones? 

Lady Fanny {haughtily), I do not under- 
stand you. 

Madge {swaggering about), I dare say. 
You English are a sort of kitchen nation. 
You know all about eating, running country- 
houses, keeping weekly accounts, making rich 
marriages, and stamping on poor people. 

Dick {crossing). For Heaven's sake, 
Madge — 

Madge. All right, Dick ; it's not her fault, 
I know, if she was born an English girl. But 
do you always sit like this {imitates Lady 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 151 

Fanny's rigid pose), and look like this? 
{Jumps up.) Isn't there any girl in you ? 

Dick (aside). It's coming. There will be 
a pitched battle, and I, as the neutral party, 
shall be the victim, and taken away in sec-^ 
tions. 

Lady Fanny. Perhaps not, as you under- 
stand it. 

Madge. But do you never snap your fin- 
gers, and jump and run (suits action to word), 
and speak out and up, and go in for fun gen- 
erally ? (Dances about.) 

Lady Fanny (stiffly). I hope not. 

Madge. She hopes not. (Laughs heartily.) 
She hopes she's a petrified fish. It's too 
much for me. You talk to her, Dick, until 
Lou comes back; she makes me tired. 
(Aside to audience). I really did not know I 
could be so rude and slangy. 

(Goes towards Lord Algernon, while Dick 
crosses to Lady Fanny. Duchess and Lou 
enter.) 

Lou (talking eagerly). Buifaloes! buffaloes! 
Why, they are as thick in Chicago as — let 
me see — as flies ; aren't they, Dick ? 



152 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Dick. What ? Buffaloes in— ~ Oh ! ah ! 
Yes, certainly. Quite so. 

(Madge becomes convulsed tvith laughter be- 
hind her /a7i.) 

Duchess. I wonder you live where there 
are such dangers. 

Lou. Dangers ? Not at all. It's delight- 
ful. Chicago's no (with an effort) — no slouch 
of a city. 

Madge {aside to Dick). Poor Lou ! she 
finds it hard — the elegant Miss Dayton, 
noted for her perfect manners. I must 
go to the rescue. [To Duchess.) Delight- 
ful ! I should think so ! There is no fun 
in the world up to a buffalo hunt. We 
were on one just before we came here, Lou 
and L 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

Duchess. You confound me ! 

Madge (loalking U2) and down, and slashing 
a little riding-whip she has taken from her 
belt). Yes ; just before we sailed. We were 
at breakfast, seven o'clock, I reckon — we have 
late breakfast at our house — when Will — 
or — [She hesitates.) 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 153 

Dick {aside to her), Pajama will do. 
{Laughs.) 

Madge. — Will Pajama jumped in through 
the window, shouting, " Girls ! girls ! get 
your guns ! A Buffalo hunt ! Three hun- 
dred head of them at least, right outside the 
Palmer House !" *' Oh, you hire a hall !'' 
says Lou. (Lou and Dick laugh together,) 
And says he, " Honest Injun ! See for your- 
self. The whole Stock Exchange is after 
them, half a dozen prayer-meetings, and every 
clerk in every shop that can beg, borrow, or 
steal a horse. Good time to say howdy to 
the folks.'' 

Lady Fanny. Say what ? 

Madge {whirling on her). Howdy, dear ? 
We haven't time to drawl out, " How do you 
do?" {To Duchess.) As I was saying. Will 
said, '* Get your lariats." As if wx ever were 
without them ! {Rushing to Dick.) Tell me, 
quick, where do those dreadful cowboys carry 
their lariats ? 

Dick. Around their necks, dear. 

Madge. W^e always wear our lariats around 
our necks at home. (Dick in quiet convul- 
sions of laughter.) And it was just one jump 



154 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

from the breakfast-table — whiz ! bang ! — out 
of the house. Ma screaming, " Girls, come 
back ! You'll get killed !" Lou tore the 
door open ; I behind her, on the run. There 
was Lightning, Lou's horse, and Pitchfire, my 
pony. We always keep them ready saddled, 
you know, in case we should feel like taking 
the town — 

Duchess. What is that ? 

Lou. Taking the town ? Oh, when we feel 
bored, we ride up and down, half a dozen or 
so of us, giving the Comanche yell, and firing 
pistols now and then. You've no idea how 
it w^akes one up. 

Duchess. I should fancy it might. 

Madge. Oh, but that isn't a patch on a 
buffalo hunt. Imagine it ! Our horses are 
as fit as we, just mad to be off, whinnying 
and pawing. One jump to our saddles, and 
we're off. Lou's hair falls down. On we 
go, up one street, down another. Shrieks, 
cries, whoops, yells ! Every one galloping 
like the wind, past Annie Dickson's, round 
the church corner ; men cheering and shout- 
ing, and just ahead a great dark, heaving, bel- 
lowing mass — the buffaloes. Then Lightning 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 155 

and Pitchfire hump themselves, we whipping 
and screaming, just as mad as every one else. 

[Here Lou begins to gesticulate^ and Dick gives 
a shout, as though carried away hy excite- 
ment ; both follow Madge's description 
tvith appropriate gestures.) 

Madge. Out goes the lariat — 

Dick. Hi! hi! Steady! 

Madge. Straight as a shot, pliable as a 
rope ; turning, twisting, drawing, pulling, and 
he is down on his knees helpless, the biggest 
buffalo of the herd. That was my cast, and 
that is what / call living. 

Dick {aside). Bravo, Madge ! You're a 
positive genius. 

Lady Fanny (aside). For a Comanche — 
yes. 

Lou. Don't be startled. Duchess, my little 
sister is so impulsive ; but then we are all so 
excitable on the subject of — er — buffaloes ; 
they take the place of foxes with us, with the 
added zest of danger. Of course, very few 
girls make such a ten-strike as Madge ; and 
you bet pa is proud of it. He had that buf- 
falo's horns cased in gold, tipped with sap- 



156 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

phires, engraved with Madge's name, the 
date, etc., and hung up in the hall. 

DircHESs. And you mean to say that these 
monsters are often seen in the very streets of 
Chicago ? Where do they come from ? 

Dick. They come from St. Louis generally, 
a sort of suburb to Chicago. (^Laughs to 
Lou.) That is the reason the girls go 
heeled. 

Duchess. Heeled! What is that? 

Madge {tapping her weapons). Armed, he 
means. Any time you are out shopping, 
you may see a hundred head of buffaloes 
tearing down the avenue, trampling every- 
thing flat before them. No stops for refresh- 
ments ; so it is well to be ready. 

Duchess. Horrible ! And to think that 
Howard remained there three months ! 

Lou. That is the reason all the nurses in 
Chicago are men ; no female could get a child 
out of the way in time. It is all a smart man 
can do to get the children safely to and from 
the City Playground, where they are obliged 
to play by law. 

Duchess. Play by law ? 

Madge. Why, of course ; even our alder- 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 157 

men could not allow the little innocents to 
play about streets, door-steps, or gardens, 
liable to be stamped by buffaloes at any mo- 
ment. 

(Dick goes off in a wild jit of laughter.^ 

Duchess {severely), I see no reason for 
mirth. [Shudders.) It must be a dreadful 
country.* 

Lady Fanny. It is strange Howard said 
nothing of this. 

Lou {innocently). Did he not? That is 
odd indeed. 

Madge. Oh, come off, Lou ! Fm dead 
tired of all this talking, and besides — 

Lou. Yes, of course ; we are expected to 
show up at Lady Monteith's. 

Duchess. Lady Monteith's, young ladies, 
when you dine with me, and dinner is about 
to be announced ? 

Madge {dropping her burlesque manner). I 
am sure you will pardon us. Duchess, but we 
are savages, you know, and only eat bread and 
salt with our well-wishers, not to mention that 
we shall hardly find time to get into proper 
dinner gowns and drive to Lady Monteith's. 



158 THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 

Duchess. I do not comprehend you, Miss 
Dayton. 

Madge. It is very simple, Duchess. You, 
or perhaps I should say your daughter, Lady 
Fanny, preferred something in the Zuki or 
Choctaw style — prairie princesses, pure and 
simple, the genuine American a la Buffalo 
Bill — and we have been doing our best to 
enact the part. 

Lou. While Lady Monteith only expects 
the veneered savage in the Worth gown. 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

Duchess {loohing at Lady Fanny). What 
is all this ? I am bewildered ! 

Lou {holding out Lady Fanny's note). If 
any further explanation is needed, this note 
may supply it. [To Duchess.) It was writ- 
ten apparently by Lady Fanny, and by an 
unfortunate accident enclosed, instead of an 
invitation to dinner, in an envelope directed 
to me. 

Lady Fanny {snatches note). Good gra- 
cious ! My note to Sophie ! 

Duchess. What will Howard say ? 

{Both girls smile ; courtesy low to Duchess.) 



THE VENEERED SAVAGE. 159 

Dick (coming forward.) Permit me also to 
say farewell, Duchess. 

Lady Fanny. But, Mr. Majendie, you dine 
with us. 

Dick (bowing). Pardon. My cousins. 

(Dick, Madge, and Lou retire backward to 
door,) 

Lord Algernon Penryhn. By Jove ! 

( Curtain falls on tableau. Duchess pointing 
to letter^ Lady Fanny pouting, Lord Al- 
gernon Penryhn staring through glass at 
the Americans, who are grouped in door^ 
making their final bows,) 



TULTJ. 



CHARACTERS. 

The Duchess of Toedmag A law unto herself— 

and others. 

Lord Blazonberrie Her son^ well descended of 

course^ and still descending. In love with " Old 
BoVs " Petroleum. 

Jack Ryder An ascending A mcrican^ in love with 

^'■Old Bob's''^ Petrolia^ his cousin. 

Petrolia Seersucker *' Old Bob's " eldest. A 

charming American atrocity — " on approvaV* 

TuLU Seersucker " Old Bob^s '^ youngest. An ir- 
repressible American atrocity. ^^ Minds no one 
but papa^ 

Dick Cuetwyn Nephew to the Duchess ^ a photo- 
graph fiend. 

Robinson The butler^ one of the props of the Brit- 
ish Constitution. 

The Camera A most taking character. 



TULU. 



ACT I. 

Library in Toedmag Castle, Entrances with 
portieres^ c. and l. ; fireplace across n. u. 
corner, sofa hy it; desk with picture over it, 
R. F., two chairs near ; tete-a-tete, c. ; tea- 
table and seats l. u. corner, piano-lamp by it. 
Curtain rises on Robinson, arranging tea- 
table, 

Rob. 'Ere's a state liof things ! Lord Bla- 
zonberrie a-goin' to marry a Hamerican, hand 
the Dachess a-'oldin' ^is 'at. Hawful! piif- 
fectly hawful ! The haristocracy hof Heng- 
land is played hout, hand money rules the 
waves. 

TuLu (running in, c). Holloa, Robinson, 
Where's everybody ? 

Rob. The Duchess his hup in 'er hapart- 



164 TULU. 

ment; Lord Blazonberrie, Miss Seersucker, 
hand Mr. Ryder, his hout hin the kennels — 

TuLu. I know all that ; I mean where's 
Mr. Dick ? 

Rob. Beg parding, miss, but you says, 
*' Where's heverybody ?" Hand Mr. Dick, 'e's 
not heverybody. 

TuLu. He's the only jolly one in the house. 
I never saw such a poky lot. I'm awfully 
hungry, give me some grub. 

Rob. [stiffly), 'Elp yourself, miss. [Passes 
wafers,) 

TuLU {taking handful). Thanks. (Curls 
up on sofa, r.) I say, Robinson, you're what 
they call a feudal retainer, aren't you ? 

Rob. a w'ich, miss ? 

TuLu. Feudal retainer. I mean you've 
been in the family years and years. 

Rob. I've served the Toed mag family for- 
ty-one year, miss. I took service under the 
father of the present duke, Lord Blazonber- 
rie's father. 

TuLu. Gracious ! And was the Duchess 
here all the time ? I wonder you are alive. 

Rob. The Duchess 'as honly been hin hour 
family thirty -two year. She was the Lady 



TULU. 165 

'Ildegarde Lyona Decima Iladela 'Unting- 
tower, the toast hand belle hof the west hof 
Hengland. 

TuLU. Toast hand belle, was she? Well, 
she's got nicely over that part. Thirty-two, 
and — she was pretty old when she married, 
wasn't she ? 

Rob. Couldn't hundertake to say, miss. 
[Smiles,) 

TuLu. You know she w^as. I bet she came 
over with William the Conqueror ! 

Dick {outside), Robinson ! 

TuLu. Mr. Dick is coming ! {Jumps up,) 

Dick {outside). Lend a hand W'ith this 
beastly camera. 

Rob. Yes, sir; d'rectly, sir. {Aside,) 
Blow 'is beastly camery ! {Exit^ c.) 

TuLu. Now for some fun ! {Exit^ c.) 

(Dick enters, c, followed by Tulu, carrying 
box ; Robinson carrying camera.) 

Dick {going to l. f.). Set it down gently, 
facing the fireplace. (Rob. places it backward , 
L.) No, no, stupid — the other way ! Don't get 
red in the face, Robinson, it don't suit your 
style of beauty, Whercj's that box of plates ? 



166 TULU. 

TuLu. Here they are, Mr. Dick. 

Dick. Tulu, I distinctly told you not to 
touch any of my things. Little girls should 
obey their elders. (Business of arranging 
camera). 

Tulu. Little girls ! I'm fifteen, and I guess 
I could take pictures as well as you, even if 
you are eighteen. Saunders says you've 
spoiled sixty-eight plates this month. 

Dick. Saunders is an ass. It was only 
sixty, and the fault of the plates every time. 

Tulu. Oh, Mr. Dick, please let me take a 
picture. I looked through the spy-hole this 
morning, and I know I could do it. 

Dick. Oh, you did, did you ? I'll trouble 
you not to look again ; this camera cost 
money. 

Tulu. Thought it was given away with a 
pound of tea. (Sits on tete-a-tete, c.) Say, 
Mr. Dick, will you ever be a lord ? 

Dick. I hardly think so. My father 
blooms like a Christmas rose, not to mention 
three elder brothers. 

Tulu. That's too bad. You'd make a 
lovely lord. 

Dick. Shouldn't I? Now, Tulu, I'll tell 



TULU. 167 

you what you can do. Throw yourself into 
an attitude, and I'll take your picture, with 
Robinson in the background. 

Rob. Beg parding, Mr. Dick, but I ain't 
particular about being took. 

TuLU. Don't be a chump, Robinson. Ev- 
erybody wants to be took. 

Dick. Of course they do ; and a most lov- 
able vanity it is to the amateur photographer. 
I say, Robinson, do you recollect the time 
Blazonberrie and I sent your picture to the 
cook, with a love-letter, and the jolly row we 
had? 

TuLU. Did she accept him, Mr. Dick ? 

Dick. Like a shot. There's where the 
trouble came in. Those were great days, eh, 
Robinson ? 

Rob. You was a most hawful larky boy, 
Mr. Dick. 

Dick. Was I not ? And to think I should 
be the main-stay of your old age, and take 
your picture myself ! Queer ! 

Rob. Beg parding, but it certainly do seem 
queer for a young gentleman to mess with a 
picture-machine, like 'e was a cad hin a cart, 
taking 'em hoff hat shilling a 'ead. 



168 TULU. 

TuLU. What stuff ! Every one home has 
a Kodak. 

Rob. His them the Ilindians, miss ? 

TuLu {laughing). Them's the Ilindians. 
( Winks to Dick.) They're like your " ti- 
gers " on this side. Here ! I'll rig you up 
like our man Friday, and Mr. Dick shall take 
us. 

Dick. I'm in that. 

TuLU {drapes Robinson in afghan^ pins it^ 
rolls his head in a tidy). There you are ! 
Now wave the tongs about. 

Rob. S'pose her ladyship were to come in. 

TuLU. She's wigging her maid up-stairs. 

Dick. You're safe enough. Go over to 
the fire. 

TuLU {scowling furiously). Now I'm the 
Duchess. 

Rob. Lor, what a larky young lady ! Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! S'posing I were to prance habout 
a bit — so. 'Ow would that be? {Prances.) 

Dick. Superb ! You ought to go on the 
stage, Robinson. Keep your nose well curl- 
ed, Tulu, and we'll call this "English lady 
watching a Kodak dance." {Focuses.) 

TuLu. Keep on prancing, Robinson, and 



TULU. 169 

ril be saying, " Atrocious !" as the Duchess 
does. Now, then. Atrocious ! 
Dick. Capital ! One — two — 

[Enter Duchess, l., behind Dick.) 

Duchess. Atrocious ! 

Rob. (dropping tongs), 'Orror ! the Duch- 
ess ! 

TuLu. What fun ! [Kneels on tete-a-tete, 
facing Duchess.) 

Dick {taking out his head). What the 
deuce — Oh, Aunt Hildegarde, youVe 
spoiled a plate. 

Duchess [eying Rob. through glass), Rob- 
inson, remove that afghan. 

Rob. [tugging at afghan), I 'umbly 'ope 
your ladyship will kindly overlook this. 
[Aside,) Blast the pins ! [Aloud.) Mr. Dick 
he inviggled me hinto hit. [Aside,) Hit 
won't come hoff 1 

Duchess. Am I to speak twice ? Remove 
those idiotic things. 

Rob. They won't come hoff. [Tugs,) 

Duchess. Then retire. 

Rob. Yes, my lady. [Exit, c, afghan drag- 
ghig from coa t-tails, ) 



170 TULU. 

TuLu. Oh, how funny ! I shall die ! 
(^Laughs.) 

Duchess. You are an ill-bred child, and 
should be in the school-room. 

TuLu. Child! Fm fifteen. 

Duchess [severely). You will oblige me by- 
finding your sister and telling her I am w^ait- 
ing, waiting tea for her. 

TuLU. ril fetch her. [Runs out, c, laugh- 
ing,) 

Duchess [sitting by table). These girls are 
absolutely unendurable. That overgrown 
lioyden is bad enough, but her sister is — 
atrocious ! 

Dick [sitting on tete-a-tete). Miss Seersuck- 
er is immense. 

Duchess. Immense ! on the contrary, she 
is under-sized ; all Americans are. 

Dick. I meant she was no end jolly. 

Duchess. Then why don't you speak 
English, and say so ? 

Dick. Because Araerikish is more express- 
ive. 

Duchess. Since your visit to the States 
you are low, Dick — positively flippant. 

Dick. I say, Aunt Hildegarde, why don't 



TULU. 171 

you let up on Miss Seersucker a bit ? I don't 
see why you're always jumping on her. 

Duchess. Because she is a most presum- 
ing young person, and her impertinence drives 
me wild. Yesterday she compared our 
" smart set " to her friends at home. Fancy ! 

Dick. They're much the same, except that 
while the natural British expression is smart- 
ly vacuous, the American has to repress an 
ill-bred intelligence and keenness from his 
features before he is good form. 

Duchess. You are trying to be witty. 

Dick. I always am witty. By- the- way, 
has Blazonberrie made any running with 
Miss Seersucker? 

Duchess. He has not yet proposed, if you 
mean that. Of course, he must do it event- 
ually, as his debts must be paid. But it's a 
sacrifice. 

Dick (rising; goes to fire). Sacrifice! 

Duchess. What else would you call it? 
This girl's father is called "old Bob" in 
those American newspapers. I have seen an 
article myself, giving a sketch of his life, 
with a woodcut of a wide -mouthed man, 
headed, "Old Bob Interviewed." Of course 



172 TULU. 

he eats pie for breakfast, with his knife ; all 
Americans do. And he savs {lowers voice) 
" By the jumping Moses !" — Blazonberrie 
heard him. 

Dick. What a catalogue of crimes ! 

Duchess. Is it not fearful ? Think of 
poor Blazonberrie with such a father-in-law ! 
Picture that atrocious creature sitting here 
chewing tobacco and telling how he entered 
New York a barefoot boy, and now rolls out 
in his private car ! 

Dick. Yes, with the Duke opposite telling 
how he fattened up his prize hogs. 

Duchess. The Duke's disgusting fad does 
not excuse the coarseness of this American. 
Poor Blazonberrie ! 

Dick. Jove ! Blazonberrie is by way of 
having luck. If old Bob pays sixty thousand 
pounds for him, and gives him his pretty 
daughter, he isn't a bad old chap. Hand- 
made and a bit rough, but better for wear 
than some of our ^^ hand-me-down " dukes. 

Duchess. Hand-me-down dukes ! 

Dick. Yes; a lot of fellows all cut after 
the same devilish old and bad pattern, wait- 
ing to be sold. 



TULU. 173 

Duchess. You had better call yourself an 
anarchist at once, Dick. 

Dick. Fm too fond of soap and water to 
be an anarchist, not to mention — 

(^JEJnter Blazonberrie, c.) 

Blaz. Take yourself ojff a moment, will 
you, Dick ? I want a word with the Duchess. 

Dick. Certainly. I'll join the others. 
(^Aside.) A row. (^JExit, c.) 

Duchess. What is the trouble now, Bla- 
zonberrie ? 

Blaz. (going to fire). Simply that you must 
manage to control your beastly temper, and 
be more civil to Miss Seersucker. 

Duchess. My beastly temper ! [Rises.) 

Blaz. Yes. You invite the girl here to 
give me a chance to propose, then insult her 
steadily. Regarded as a mother-in-law, you 
are absolutely appalling. 

Duchess [sits on tete-a-tete). Oh, blame me. 

Blaz. I certainly will. Then there's Ry- 
der. Could you not see he was dead spoons 
on Miss Seersucker ? What did you ask him 
for? 

Duchess. Because T did not wish any eli- 



174 TULU. 

gible men here to interfere with you. He is 
quite a lion since his book came out; and, 
being the Seersucker person's cousin, is out 
of the field. 

Blaz. .Third cousins can marry. 

Duchess [fanning herself). Nonsense ! 
This girl has been sent here to marry a ti- 
tle ; yours is the best in the market ; it is 
quite a matter of business. She could as 
well stay at home if she were to marry her 
cousin. 

Blaz. Well, go on, go on, and when you've 
driven her from the house, do not be amazed 
if I do something desperate. 

Duchess (starting up). Great heavens! 
you do not mean to marry an actress I 

Blaz. No ; I mean to earn money for my- 
self. 

Duchess. You do not know how. 

Blaz. I can drive. I will put the racing 
stud into harness, start a livery- stable, and 
drive a hansom myself. It's quite the thing 
now to support yourself. 

Duchess. Think of the disgrace to the 
family ! 

Blaz. Think of the fun for me ! 



TULU. 175 

Duchess. This girl shall marry you. I 
will crawl, cringe, flatter — anything to prevent 
such a disgrace. A Toedmag earn money ! 
Atrocious ! (Laughter outside,) 

Blaz. They are coming in. Now recollect 
yourself. Talk ! Yes, I fancy to - morrow 
would be a good day — 

(Duchess goes to tea-table. Enter Petrolia, 
Dick, Ryder, and Tulu, c.) 

Blaz. We were speaking of our trip to 
the Abbey, Miss Seersucker. How would 
to-morrow do I Allow me. (Helps her take 
off her wraps.) 

Pet. Thanks. Any day will be delightful. 
I adore ruins. That's why I'm so fond of 
the English aristocracy. 

Blaz. (laughing). We are thankful to be 
liked for any reason. At least, I am. (Goes 
to fire.) 

(Tulu, Jack, and Dick follow ; talk.) 

Pet. Duchess, Tulu tells me I have kept 
you waiting. Pardon me, and blame those 
fascinating puppies. Don't you just perfect- 
ly adore puppies? (Sits on tete-a-tete.) 



1V6 TULU. 

Duchess [severely). Young ladies did not 
affect mannish tastes in my day, Miss Seer- 
sucker. 

Pet. I see : not being born in the dog- 
days, you let the men go to the dogs alone. 
Our ancestresses were a slow crowd, don't 
you think ? 

Duchess {eying her through glass). Our 
ancestresses ? 

Pet. Pardon ; I meant ^nine, I forget 
who you were before the Duke married you. 
Were you anybody ? 

Duchess. I, anybody ! 

Pet. Yes. It's so puzzling over here to 
meet three or four hundred pounds of wom- 
an, with a society smile and a Felix gown, 
and be told it's " nobody." Makes one feel 
like a trance medium, don't you think ? 

(Rob. brings in kettle, muffins, lights spirit- 
lamp, 7*e tires.) 

Duchess. I know nothing of such people. 

Pet. What's the matter with Madam Bla- 
vatsky ? 

Duchess. I have not heard that anything 
ailed her, and fail to see your point. 



TULU. 177 

Pet. Points are made with a brad-awl over 
here, I notice. 

Duchess, xltrocious ! 

Pet. Oh, you were born so. There's my 
receipt for punch. 

Blaz. {coming forward^. What sort. Miss 
Seersucker ? 

Pet. London Punchy my lord. No one 
ever gets the idea. 

Blaz. I am sure we could not fail to, 
mother. 

Duchess. Certainly. Pray tell us it. 

Pet. To one evaporated British joke add 
four quarts of the milk of human-kindness. 
Keep in a dark, dry place for a year till it 
swells to ten pages. Garnish with Pears' 
Soap ads., and there you are. 

Duchess. Atro— um — very bright. {Pours 
tea,) 

Blaz. Deuced clever. Capital ! [Laughs.) 

Pet. {crossing to fire). What's going on 
over here ? 

Blaz. What the deuce did she mean? 
( To Duchess. ) Call Ryder away from 
her. 

Duchess. Mr. Ryder, may I give you a 
12 



178 TULU. 

cup of tea ? Blazonberrie, hand this to Miss 
Seersucker. Dick, help Miss Tulu. 

(Blazonberrie carries tea to Petrolia. Ry- 
der comes to table.) 

Jack. No cream, Duchess. Thanks. (Starts 
to fireplace again.) 

Duchess. Sit down here, Mr. Ryder. 

Jack. Delighted, Duchess. [Sits staring 
at Pet.) 

(Dick and TuLir come to table.) 

Dick. Are you in this, Tulu ? 

Tulu. Yep. Have some tea " on me." 

Dick. A cupful of sugar, and a lump of 
tea. Aunt Hildegarde. 

Tulu. Oh, come off, Mr. Dick, Pm not a 
bahy. No sugar at all, Duchess ; just a 
slice of lemon, as Smithy takes it. 

Duchess. Why do you call your sister 
Smithy ? 

Tulu. Oh, just for roots. Duchess. 

Duchess. What language does this child 
speak ? 

Dick. Amerikish, Aunt Hildegarde. Come 
over here, Tulu. 



TULU. 1/9 

(He and Tulu sit by desk. Business of quar- 
relling over tea and muffins,) 

Jack. Tulu amazes you, Duchess, does she 
not? She is a nice little thing, barring her 
slanginess. 

Duchess. I simply do not comprehend 
her. But I wish to tell you, Mr. Eyder, how 
very pleased I am to have you here. To me 
authors, artists, musicians, and even actors 
are very interesting. 

Jack. You are very kind, Duchess. 

Duchess. No, I am simply broad in my 
vievfs — much more so than the Duke — and I 
study human nature in all classes. 

Jack. Pardon, my cousin has no muffins. 
(EiseSj takes plates.) 

Duchess. Blazonberrie will wait upon her. 
But come into the drawing-room ; I have a 
great deal to say to you. Come. 

Jack. Delighted. 

(Uxitj L., with Duchess.) 

Pet. Where are they going? 
Tulu. The Duchess is going to pump 
Jack. 

Pet. Tulu! 



180 TULU. 

TuLU. You can't down me, Smithy. You're 
only four years older than I. 

Blaz. Declaration of Independence num- 
ber two. 

TuLU. Yes ; I only mind papa. Say, 
Smithy, tell our fortunes. 

Pet. Anything to keep you quiet. Please 
get me a pack of cards. Lord Blazonberrie. 
[Comes forward to tete-a-tete.) Who will be 
first? 

Dick. My face is my fortune. 

TuLu. Eough luck, isn't it, Mr. Dick ? 

Dick. I say, I thought we were chums. 

Pet. Tulu, you are rude. 

Dick. Never mind. (Blaz. stands behind 
Pet.; winks to Dick.) What are you wink- 
ing for, Blazonberrie ? 

Blaz. Something in my eye. {^Gives cards 
to Pet.) 

Dick. In your eye ! 

Tulu. What a noodle ! Come on up-stairs. 
(^Pulls him doivn f.) Four is a regular jam. 
He wants to see Petrolia alone. Get the 
idea ? Alone, 

Dick. By Jove ! Tulu, wouldn't you like 
to help me fetch down the things? You 



TULU. 181 

know I am to take a flash -light picture. 
(Aside.) How was that — natural ? 

TuLu. Elegant. Come on, and Til squeeze 
the bulb. (Buns out, c. e.) 

Dick. Not much I (^Follows, c. e.) 

Blaz. May I hear my fortune now, Miss 
Seersucker? (^Sits on tete-a-tete.) 

Pet. Certainly. Shuffle the cards, cut three 
times with your left hand, and keep your mind 
on your wish, your best. (Gives him cards.) 

Blaz. (shuffling cards). I have but one 
wish, as you know. Miss Seersucker. 

Pet. I? Oh, dear, no. You forget I've 
only known you three months. 

Blaz. (sentimentally). It seems like years. 

Pet. (coquettishly). Thanks. I really had 
no idea I made time hang so heavily. How 
unkind to tell me. 

Blaz. You know what I mean. 

Pet. (archly). I wish I did. 

Blaz. What do you wish me to under- 
stand ? 

Pet. All you conveniently can. But we 
must not keep Fate waiting. (Takes cards, 
^ooks them over.) 

Blaz. (pulling his mustache). Jove ! 



182 TULU. 

Pet. How funny ! Here is a horse. 

Blaz. In the cards ? 

Pet. {showing card). There he is — a trot- 
ter. He is to race ; there is money on him ; 
but beware ! following him come disappoint- 
ment and loss of money. 

Blaz. You are a witch, Miss Seersucker. 
Is he a bay, or can't you tell ? 

Pet. The cards tell everything. He is a 
blonde. Beware of a red roan steed. See, 
here is the red roan steed card. (Skoivs card.) 

Blaz. It must be Cutaw^ay. 

Pet. Doubtless it is. Don't back him. 

Blaz. I have, w^orsc luck ! 

Pet. Never mind ; here is a blond woman 
with a good heart for you. You seem to 
run to blondes. She brings you money. Oh 1 
such lots and lots of money ! Who is she ? 
Have you a blond aunt, and has she money ? 

Blaz. I'd rather have her heart. 

Pet. Your aunt's ? 

Blaz. No, no ; you — the girl's in the cards. 
Do I get my wish ? 

Pet. I think not. A tall, dark woman in- 
terferes, and the end is — disappointment. 
(Rises.) 



TULU. 183 

Blaz. (^rising). Miss Seersucker — Petrolia ! 
Tell me, is tliere anything between you and 
Ryder ? 

Pet. {looJcing down). Between Jack and I ? 
Er — well, yes, there is — 

Blaz. Engagement? Understanding? 

Pet. Oh no. Only a portiere, and the 
Duchess's head. That is all. Why do you 
ask? 

Blaz. Then I may — er — don't you — 

(TuLu and Dick enter^ c. e.) 

TuLu. Here we are again. 

Blaz. Oh, confound it ! [Goes to fire.) 

Dick. Call the others ; we're all ready, 
TqIu. 

TuLU [going to door). Come on. Jack! 
Duchess ! 

Pet. Everything all right this time, Mr. 
Chetwyn ? 

Dick. Yes, I have remembered everything. 
[Business of arranging camera.) 

Pet. Are you going to hold the plate in 
your hand ? Is that a new w^ay ? 

Dick. Oh, I am a thick head ! [Puts in 
plate.) 



184 TULU. 

(Duchess and Jack enter,) 

Jack [going to tete-a-tete), Petrolia and I 
will look well here, don't you think ! (Sits.) 

Pet. Yes ; we'll sit here. 

Duchess. Oh no ! Miss Seersucker, be 
kind enough to stand by Blazonberrie. Mr. 
Ryder, you and I will stand here. (Crosse-^ 
to c. e.) 

Jack. Delighted. (Folloios her,) 

TuLU. I'll sit here. [Sits hy desk.) 

Dick [focusing). This is immense. A go 
from Goville ! 

Duchess. Dick, do not use those odious 
Americanisms. 

Jack. Pray consider our feelings as odious 
Americans, Duchess. 

Duchess. I do not refer to you, Mr. Ryder. 
But I understand there are social stratas even 
in the States, and Dick gravitates naturally 
to the lowest. 

Dick [taking out head). I like that! 

TuLU. Mr. Dick got in with a lot of jays 
at home. Duchess. 

Duchess. And what is a jay ? 

Pet. Tuhi, I insist on your being quiet. 



TULU. 185 

TuLU. Smithy, I won't. You know what 
a flubdub is, Duchess ? 

Duchess. Indeed, I do not. 

Jack. My dear Tulu ! 

TuLu. I'm awake. Jack. A flubdub is a 
no count fellow who don't pay his poker 
debts ; and a jay is the same, only more so. 
B.etrolia says there are lots of them over 
here, only you call them — 

Pet {interrupting). Jack, do stop her. 

Jack. Tulu, you are rather young to lead 
the talk. (Crosses, sits hy her,) Don't you 
see Chetwyn is waiting ? 

Dick. I should say I was. Now, Blazon- 
berrie, close the blinds, and we're off. And for 
gracious' sake, don't wink vv^hen the flash comes. 

(Dick focuses, everybody poses, Blazonberrie 
yoes to loindow, is about to close blind, when 
Robinson enters, gives jewel-box and letter to 
Duchess.) 

Rob. Beg parding, your ladyship, but the 
young man from the bank brought these, and 
wishes a receipt. 

Duchess. Place the box on the table. 
Blazonberrie, kindly write a receipt. 



186 TULU. 

Blaz. Certainly. (Crosses to desic, ivrites.) 
Duchess. Dick, tins absurd picture must 

wait. 

Dick. Of course ! I never saw such a 

jolly disobliging lot. (Crosses to Tulu.) 

(Jack goes to fire, talks to Petrolia ; they 
turn their backs on room, Blazonberrie 
gives receipt to Robinson, who retires. Duch- 
ess points to couple,) 

Blaz. Jove ! Call her over here. 

Duchess {opening box). Miss Seersucker, 
would you care to see our family jewels ? 

Pet. Indeed I should. I adore jewels. 
(Comes to table ^ followed by Jack.) 

Duchess. Some of these have quite a his- 
tory. 

Pet. That will interest you. Jack. 

Jack. Yes, ancient jewelry is quite a fad 
of mine. 

Duchess. This is modern ; a gift from the 
Duke on my wedding-day. (Hands her neck- 
lace,) 

Pet. Oh, how perfectly gorgeous ! 

Blaz. Come over to the glass and try them 
on. Miss Seersucker. 



TULU. 187 

(They go to mirror over fireplace ; Blazonber- 
RiE assists Pet. to fasten necklace; she coquets 
with him,) 

Jack (aside). That settles it. Diamonds 
are trumps. Bah ! 

Duchess. Are you fond of diamonds, Mr. 
Ryder? 

Jack (staring at Pet.). Never eat them — 
oh, beg pardon, Duchess. But, really, I care 
less for large stones than for quaint old set- 
tings. Some of the old Russian or East Ind- 
ian work is perfect. 

Duchess. Then I have the very thing. 
Lift out this tray, if you please. (They lend 
over box,) 

TuLu (jumping up). Come on, Mr. Dick ; 
they don't want us. Hateful things ! 

Dick. They do not seem to miss us. 

TuLu. Come on, and we'll get it, 

Dick. Pm with you. Hush ! 

TuLU. Hush ! {They tiptoe off^ l. e.) 

Duchess (taking out case). Are you a col- 
lector, Mr. Ryder ? 

Jack (laughing^ detaches amulet from his 
tvatch-chain). There is my East Indian collec- 
tion. Duchess. Compact, is it not ? 



188 TULU. 

Duchess. Very dainty. An amulet -box, 
is it not ? 

Jack. Yes, Duchess. [Hands it to her.) 

Pet. (coming forward). The necklace is 
adorable. Duchess. Ah, you have Jack's 
East Indian collection. Wouldn't it make a 
jolly stamp-box ? 

Blaz. Or match-box ? 

Jack. Hear the vandals ! Use a sacred 
amulet-box for matches ! 

Pet. (crossing to Jack). I would like it. 
Jack. 

Jack. Everything I have is yours. That 
" goes without saying." 

Pet. It does. It has gone a long time 
without saying. 

Jack. I am in earnest. 

Duchess. Now, young people, here is the 
gem of all my treasures — the Ranee's neck- 
lace ; an heirloom with a most tragic history. 
(Holds up necklace.) 

Jack. That is a treasure ! Who could 
hesitate between that and a string of huge 
stones such as any parvenu can buy ? 

Pet. It's perfectly adorable ! See how 
the fire opal in the pendant gleams, Jack! 



TULU. 189 

It seems almost alive. Do tell us the his- 
tory, Duchess. 

Duchess. Blazonberrie shall tell it. Mr. 
Ryder, sit by me. [Gives Blaz. necklace.) 

Blaz. Be seated, Miss Seersucker. It is 
quite a long yarn. 

Pet. Delicious ! Firelight, twilight, and 
a ghost-story. (^Sits on tete-a-tete.) 

(Duchess and Ryder by table, Blazonber- 
rie stands^ c.) 

Blaz. [holding up necklace). This is the 
Ranee's necklace. Please to observe the 
four diamonds set about the pendant, for 
thereby hangs a tale of blood and woe. 
Somewhere in the days of Clive, Sir Guy 
Rommery, an ancestor of ours, went out to 
India to seek his fortune, and a jolly pile of 
loot — boodle — he scooped in. 

Duchess. Blazonberrie, do not be so flip- 
pant. 

Blaz. Oh, you want something more dra- 
matic ? Werry good. Turn on the red light, 
thump the muffled drum, pick the string of 
the violoncello, for the tragedy is at hand. 
Scene : closing agonies at the taking of an 



190 TULU. 

Indian city by the English. Tum-tum-tum, 
r-r-r-um, crash ! 

Duchess. How clever he is ! 

Pet. Bring on the villain, Lord Blazon- 
berrie. 

Blaz. Here he is, sword in hand, surround- 
ed by blood, flames, fire, and fury. Sir Guy 
breaks into the Ranee's apartment, where she 
stands undismayed among her cowering at- 
tendants, and, alas ! her white dress covered 
with a thousand jewels. Well — 

Pet. Don't stop here. Did he kill her ? 

Blaz. Awkward corners are turned in the 
drama now by a steam-curtain, and this is a 
deuced awkward one. Theoretically, you 
know, an Englishman never lifts his hand 
against a woman — 

Jack {interrupting). Unless she is his 
wife — 

Pet. When he uses his feet, so that don't 
count. Pardon us, Lord Blazonberrie. 

Blaz. Don't mention it. As I say, the 
steam-curtain covers a multitude of sins, and 
up ours goes. See it ? ( Waves his hands,) 
On it goes, growing pinker every instant, 
until the orchestra strikes up, *^See the con- 



TULU. 191 

quering hero comes !" and voila ! a new scene 
appears — England again. Sir Guy greets his 
happy tenantry once more, and settles down 
to enjoy — the proceeds of — his virtuous ca- 
reer. 

Pet. But where does the necklace come 
in? 

Blaz. It was one of the rewards of his 
virtue. 

Pet. Good men flourish like Christmas- 
trees in India, don't they ? 

Blaz. Not when they are handicapped by 
a dying woman's curse, as Sir Guy was. 

Jack. Give us the curse. 

Blaz. Gladly. 

"Tell my tale of woe to four, 
Disasters follow by the score." 

So the family doggerel goes, and numerous 
unpleasant coincidences back it up. The 
Kanee objected to gossip evidently. 

Pet. But we are only four now ! {Jumps 
up.) Gracious ! Just fancy ! 

Duchess. Only four? Where are Dick 
and Tulu ? 

Jack. They slipped away before Blazon- 
berrie began. 



192 TULU. 

Duchess. How unfortunate ! Blazonber- 
rie, wliy were you so careless ? 

Blaz. Nonsense ! Have in the lights and 
put the beastly thing away. Who cares for 
such things now? 

Duchess. Well, it cannot be helped. 
Put it away. 

Jack. May I have one more look ? 

Blaz. Certainly. (Hands it to him,) 

Jack {coming down f.). The exact thing 
for my East Indian story. [Examines it,) 

Pet. Does anything happen to Jack and 
I, or is it a strictly Blazonberrie picnic ? 

Blaz. I bear the brunt as narrator, and 
you all come in for second places. Shall we 
have a game of billiards, and so return to the 
nineteenth century ? 

Pet. By all means. I feel really creepy. 
Come and score, Jack. Duchess, come and 
see me wipe up the floor with Lord Blazon- 
berrie. (Exit, c. E., with Blaz.) 

Duchess. Wipe up the floor ! 

Jack. Another American atrocity. Duchess. 
Shall we join them ? 

Duchess. First I must ask your assist- 
ance in locking these away. Sorry to bore 



TULU. 193 

you, but I cannot trust servants in this 
case. 

Jack. Charmed to be of service, I assure 
you. Where does this fascinating thing go, 
Duchess ? 

Duchess. In the bottom, v^ell out of sight. 
I detest it. 

Jack. Then you will not wear it to the 
masquerade to-morrow ? 

Duchess. No ; I very seldom wear it. 
Put it in now, if you please. 

(Jack lays necklace in boXj Duchess puts in 
trays.) 

Duchess. Thanks. Now, Mr. Ryder — you 
are a Yankee — I have one of your country- 
men's safes in this room. Look about, and 
guess where it is. 

Jack (aside). It's an awful death to die ! 
[Aloud.) I cannot imagine. Duchess. In the 
wainscot ? 

Duchess (crossing to desk). No ; here, un- 
der this etching. Is it not clever? I will 
open it. The word was Toedmag. T-o-e-d- 
m-a-g, and our simple little etching swings out, 
revealing the patent American fire-proof safe. 
13 



194 TULU. 

Jack [handi7ig her jewel -box). And the 
word is changed every time ? 

Duchess. Yes. This time you shall se- 
lect it. 

Jack. How would Petrolia do ? 

(Blazonberrie enters, c. ; stands listening.) 

Duchess. Admirable ! (Places box in safe; 
closes it.) P-e-t-r-o-l-i-a. Now, Mr. Ryder, 
not even Blazonberrie shall know the se- 
cret. 

Jack. I appreciate your confidence, Duch- 
ess. Shall we join the others ? 

(Blazonberrie drops curtain ; retires.) 

Duchess. Dick will be here almost imme- 
diately, to take that absurd picture. Thank 
fortune, Blazonberrie never has any w^cariug 
fads. He is such a dear fellow. 

Jack {absent-mindedly). I have always 
heard he was very expensive. Pardon me, I 
was not attending. 

Duchess. Do not mention it. By-the- 
bye, I want your opinion on an old book I 
picked up at auction. It is in here. Come ! 
[Exit, L.) 



TULU. 195 

Jack. Confound her old book ! I wonder 
what Petrolia is doing. 

Duchess (outside). I am waiting, Mr. Ry- 
der. 

Jack. Coming, Duchess. (Bxit, l.) 

(Enter Tulu and Dick, c.) 

TuLU. Don't be a goose and spoil every- 
thing, Mr, Dick. 

Dick. But it's not the correct thing. A 
man should never play upon a woman's weak- 
ness. 

Tulu (laughing), A man ! Why, you're 
nothing but a boy — an infant, without a mus- 
tache. 

Dick. I've three, nearly four years the ad- 
vantage of you, Miss Tulu. 

Tulu. Pooh ! it's brains that count, not 
years. Our boys at home can give you 
points every time. (Sits on sofa.) However, 
be hateful ! Petrolia has played no end of 
jokes on you, and says you're the freshest 
thing she ever saw. So there ! 

Dick. Oh, she did ! She had better look 
in the glass. I am fresh, am I ? Very good, 
then I am with vou. Where is it ? 



196 TULU. 

TULU. It? 

Dick. The blamed mouse. 

TuLU. Keep your temper, little boy. 
[Takes candy mouse from her pocket.) Here's 
the blamed mouse. [Dangles it by tail.) 
Isn't it natural ? 

Dick. No end. And will your sister yell 
when she sees it ? 

TuLu. Yell ! Well, I guess. Smithy is so 
awfully silly. She'll make a perfect idiot of 
herself, and when she's quite through we'll 
say, *^ Why, it's only chocolate !" 

Dick. That's the idea ! and I will add, 
*^You are the freshest thing I ever saw." 
That will crush her. ( Voices outside.) 

TuLU. Remember the cue : *^ AYe're all 
ready." 

Dick. Do it the first thing. [Runs to 
camera.) 

[Enter Blazonberrie and Petrolia, c, Duch- 
ess and Jack, l.) 

Pet. Duchess, the curse begins to work. 
I have promised Mr. Chetwyn to sit for him 
until he gets a picture. Fancy ! By-and-by 
I shall be known as — the plate-smasher. 



TULU. 197 

Duchess. I am grieved that Dick should 
bore yon, Miss Seersucker. 

Jack. My cousin jests. She is incapable 
of being serious about anything. 

Pet. Thanks. 

Dick. Some of her jokes go a long way. 

Pet. Yes ; they came over three thousand 
miles with me. 

TuLU. But other people can joke as well, 
even if they are young. 

Pet. Gracious ! who pickled the party 
while I was out? Lord Blazonberrie, let us 
pose as two cherubim on the tete-a-tete, and 
show the beauty of a sweet temper. [Goes 
to tete-a-tete ; sits.) 

Blaz. [following). Yes, teach 'em a lesson. 
[Sits hy her.) 

Duchess [going to chair ^ a. f.). Mr. Ryder, 
will you join me ? [Sits.) 

Jack [crossing to her). With the greatest 
pleasure. [Sits glaring at Pet., who is flirt- 
ing with Blaz.) 

TuLU. I'll be in the background. [Steals 
behind Pet., pins mouse on her skirt.) 

Dick. All ready ? 

TuLu. We're all ready. ( Wiiiks to Dick.) 



198 TULU. 

Dick. Very good. Jove! Miss Seersuck- 
er, is that a mouse crawling up your skirt ? 

Pet. a mouse on me ! Take it off ! 
Quick ! {Jumps on tete-a-tete, screams,) Do 
catch it ! Oh ! oh ! 

Blaz. {hunting on floor), I don't see it. 

Jack {rushing to Pet.). Keep cool, Petrolia, 
ril get it. 

Pet. Hurry ! hurry ! Jack, take the hor- 
rid thing away ! 

Duchess {rising). Atrocious ! What a 
scene ! 

(TuLU and Dick laugh uproariously,) 

Pet. It touched my hand ! Oh, Jack, 
why are you so slow ? 

Blaz. I don't see it. {Hunts under table,) 

Jack. Ah, Pve got you ! {Seizes mouse, 
holds it up,) Why, it's only chocolate. See, 
Petrolia. 

TuLu. Only chocolate ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Dick. Who's fresh now ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Pet. Only chocolate? Duchess, pardon 
me, but Pve such a horror of mice. Whose 
idea was it ? Tulu ! 

Dick {promjjtly), I am the culprit. Miss 



TULU. 199 

Seersucker. I only intended a little fun — a 
little revenge — 

Pet. And had a great deal. Then I owe 
you one, Mr. Chetwyn. And I always pay 
my debts — always. 

TABLEAU. 

Pet. Jack. 

TuLu. Blaz. 

Duchess. Dick. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

[Same scene, lamps lighted; Duchess, Petro- 
LiA, and TuLu enter in evening dress.) 

Duchess. So you have society in the 
States ? Amazing ! 

TuLu. You bet we have society ! 

Pet. Tulu ! [Goes to fire.) 

TuLu. You can't bulldoze me, Smithy. 
Besides, the Duchess spoke to me. 

Duchess. Indeed, I did not. [Sits hy ta- 
ble.) Were you my child you would be in 
the school-room. 



200 TULU. 

TuLu. Thank goodness, I'm not your child. 
(^Flings herself on sofa, looks over 2>icture-hook,) 

Duchess. Miss Seersucker, Dick tells me 
there is a truly correct and English style of 
living among your "Four Hundred" — not 
that I know what they are — but how do the 
rest of the fifty million live? For instance, 
how do you dine enfamille? 

Pet. (coming forward). How do we dine ? 
Well ; I remember a dinner we gave Mr. 
Chetwyn last summer. First course, fried 
ham — 

Duchess. Very original. A¥as it served 
before or after soup ? 

TuLu. The Seersuckers never get in the 
soup, Duchess. 

Duchess. Never get in ! Why, who does ? 

TuLu. Blazonberrie is in it — 

Pet. Tulu ! More slang. Duchess. It 
means the reverse of in the swim — 

Tulu. It does not. It means — 

Pet. Tulu! [Very fast.) Next course, 
trout, olives, baked potatoes, jam, pickles, 
sardines, crackers, and fried coffee — at least, 
it was made in the frying-pan. 

Duchess. Pray how was this served ? 



TULU. 201 

Pet. a la Russe, on tin pie-plates. 

Duchess. Did all these things go well to- 
gether ? 

Pet. Everything goes in the Adirondacks. 

Duchess. Ah, now I see. The Adiron- 
dacks are a suburb of New York City, are 
they not ? 

TuLU. What jolly geography ! 

Pet. Yes, Duchess. 

Duchess. And this was before your father 
— er — hit oil. 

TuLu. Hit oil ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! She means 
struck, Smithy. 

Duchess. I see no difference. 

Pet. Papa struck oil before I was born. 
Duchess ; hence my idiotic name. Petrole- 
um — Petrolia. See ? 

Duchess {condescendingly), I like your 
name exceedingly, Miss Seersucker ; it is so 
distinctive. Many daughters are named af- 
ter their fathers' professions in the States, 
are they not ? 

Pet. As there is not apt to be any daugh- 
ter before there is a profession, they are. 

Duchess. How interesting ! Give me a 
few specimens. 



202 TULU. 

Pet. (winks to Tulu). Certainly. There's 
Julia Vanderbilt: father a carpenter named 
Vander, built ; Jennie Rockaf eller : mother a 
nurse, rocked many a feller ; Jemima Hod- 
son : father carried a hod ; Mary — er — well, 
so on ; not to mention Gloviana, Sopiana, 
Drygoodsia, and Drugolia. 

Tulu (aside). Can't she just reel them off ! 

Duchess. It is like the Norse formation 
of names. Peculiarly suited to a people 
without rank, traditions, or ancestors. 

Pet. We were not incubated ! (Hises,) 

Duchess (soothingly). No, no ; but I un- 
derstand grandfathers are best ignored in the 
States, and every one starts on the basis that 
the child is father of the man. 

Pet. Indeed we don't. We are mighty 
proud of the men who made our blooming 
young republic, and wouldn't swap one of 
them for any number of your gone-to-seed 
aristocracy. 

Duchess. Gone to seed ! (Rises.) 

Pet. (walking about). Yes. Your great 
families were built up by men of the people, 
men with brains, and are about to be extin- 
guished by a set of vapid fops — 



TULU. 203 

Duchess. Atrocious ! 

TuLU {throwing hook on floor). Go it, 
Smithy ! 

Pet. Yes; your family trees boast only 
withered sprouts — bargain - counter dukes, 
shop -worn earls, and mildewed lords, who 
follow their titles into the American market 
like tin kettles tied to a dog's tail. 

Duchess {going to door). Perhaps you 
would do well to reserve your scorn until 
one of these same titles is offered you, Miss 
Seersucker. 

TuLu. Oh, rats ! She's refused six lords, 
one — 

Pet. Tulu! 

Duchess. I cannot listen ; I have recollected 
an important letter. Atrocious ! {Exit^ c.) 

Tulu {^running to door). And a baronet. 
So there ! 

Pet. {putting hand over her mouth), Tulu, 
please be quiet. 

Tulu. Well, you did. 

Pet. {laughing), Tulu, you never say such 
horrid things at home. 

Tulu. No more do you. You set me a 
very bad example. 



204 TULU. 

Pet. I know it. But it is such fun to see 
the Duchess's eyes. 

TuLTJ. Isn't it? And it's so dull here. 
I say, Petrolia, are you going to marry Bla- 
zonberrie ? 

Pet. (sitting on tete-a-tete). What do you 
advise ? 

TuLu. I s'pose it would be fun to be Lady 
Blazonberrie now, and a duchess by-and-by, 
but Jack is nicer. 

Pet. I should think so ! 

TuLU. And Blazonberrie is as cross as a 
bear mornings. He swears at his valet. Mr. 
Dick is so much jollier he ought to be a 
lord. 

Pet. He is a nuisance, and I owe him one. 

TuLu. I think he is perfectly sweet. 

Pet. He is very selfish. Just think, Tulu, 
he has never let you take one picture. Just 
as though you were a baby. 

Tulu. Yes, and I know I could do it as 
well as he does. 

Pet. You could not well do it worse. 
[Draws her to her,) Wouldn't it be fun to 
take one on the sly, dear ? 

Tulu. Dear! What do you want? 



TULU. 205 

Pet. Only a little revenge. He made me 
appear a perfect fool, you know. 

TuLU. Well, Tm in it. 

Pet. That's a dear child. (^Hugs her,) 
You know the camera is all ready for a flash- 
light picture. 

TuLU. Yep. 

Pet. Very good. After coffee is served, 
and we have all gone to the music-room, you 
wait behind. Turn out the light. Hide be- 
hind the curtain with the bulb in your hand. 
I will send Mr. Chetwyn back for my hand- 
kerchief. The instant he is in the door, 
give a horrible groan and squeeze the bulb. 
You can't miss him, and of course he will 
have his mouth open. 

TuLu. ril groan so. (Groans,) Wouldn't 
that make your flesh just creep ? 

Pet. Yes, indeed. And to - morrow you 
can have Saunders flnish it quietly, and then 
show it to everybody. 

TuLU. Mr. Dick will be just hopping. 

(Miter Jack, c.) 

Jack. Run away, Tulu, like a good child. 
TuLu. I'm not a child ; Fm fifteen, and I 



206 TULU. 

don't want to hear your old secret. ( Walks 
very slowly to door,) 'Tisn't much of a se- 
cret. You're going to make love to Petrolia, 
like all the rest. (Uxit, l.) 

Pet. What is the matter, Jack ? 

Jack. You. 

Pet. What have I did ? 

Jack. Do be serious, Petrolia, I want to 
speak to you. 

Pet. Well, you seem to be talking. 

Jack. You know what I mean. 

Pet. That is what Blazonberrie constantly 
says. 

Jack. Confound him ! 

Pet. Was it of this you wished to speak ? 

Jack. No. (Walks about.) Petrolia, it 
is, of course, not my affair, but I wish you 
would leave these insolent people, who regard 
you as a speculation and a curiosity. I am 
continually irritated by the Duchess's tone of 
patronage. 

Pet. Are you ? I enjoy our battles im- 
mensely, and her patronage does not injure 
me. 

Jack. I think it does, Petrolia. I think 
that when a beautiful, accomplished, fascinat- 



TULU. 207 

ing girl like you puts herself in the position 
of being " sent on approval," as it were, she 
is injured. 

Pet. But it is the other way. Blazonberrie 
is " on approval." And of course. Jack, no 
true American could reject a title. 

Jack. You could. 

Pet. I am not sure. (Blses,) If papa buys 
me Blazonberrie, think how I can stamp on 
the women who have hesitated to receive 
^^Old Bob's" daughter. (Crosses to r.) 

Jack (following). What have these women 
to do with your real happiness, Petrolia ? 

Pet. Not much. Oh, Jack ! sometimes I 
wish papa had never made his fortune. {They 
walk slowly to c, stand in front of tete-a-tete.) 

Jack. I often wish that. 

Pet. Do you remember the larks we had 
at Cobbsville? The dances in the school- 
house, and the everlasting pink gingham 
gown I wore ? 

Jack. You never wear anything half so 
sweet now. One is afraid to touch you for 
fear of rumpling some folds or biases. 

Pet. I recollect one who was afraid to 
touch mc then, Master Jack. Do you remem- 



208 TULU. 

ber the night you kissed me behind the door, 
and I walked home on the fence, with jon 
following in the moonlight, and wouldn't 
speak to you? {They sit on tete-a-tete.) 

Jack. Yes ; and I remember calling with 
a basket of apples and an apology the next 
morning, and you forgave me. 

Pet. Yes ; and taught you to waltz out in 
the barn. [Laughs.) Oh, Jack! shall you 
ever forget the quarrel we had because I said 
Tommy Hicks had a handsome nose ? 

Jack. No ; nor how I flattened his hand- 
some nose. Dear old days ! [Sighs.) 

Pet. Dear, dear old days ! (Sighs.) What 
a pity that " youth's sweet-scented manuscript 
must close," as Khayam says. 

Jack. Why need it ? Petrolia, you have 
just said your happiest days were those in 
which you had no money. And they were. 
Money brings cares, social obligations, heart- 
burnings in its train. It cannot buy happi- 
ness, or love such as I offer you. My love 
has never swerved since we were children 
playing together. I — 

Pet. Well, Jack? 

Jack (taking her hand). Petrolia, would 



TULU. 209 

you — oh, were it not for your money I would 
tell you of the fond dreams 1 have had of a 
little home, where you should reign supreme. 
Were it not for that miserable fortune, I 
vfould offer you the devotion of a lifetime. 
But, pshaw ! [Rises, walks about.) I am 
poor, always shall be. Authorship brings 
no golden reward — and I am absurd with 
mj talk of love. Love is for the rich nowa- 
days. 

Pet. I am sorry, because then I never shall 
have any. 

Jack. You ! Why, your fortune is my 
stumbling-block. 

Pet. Yes, now. But, you see, Jack, papa 
said — he said, you know — he said — 

Jack (^rushing to her). Yes, Petrolia — he 
said — 

Pet. He said if I was such — a — a darned 
fool as to prefer you to an English lord, I 
might marry you and live on love, for he'd 
never give me a cent. 

Jack. And would you give it up for me ? 

Pet. I— 

Dick (outside), Tulu ! 

Jack. Chetwyn. 
14 



210 TULU, 

(Dick enters, c.) 

Pet. Yes. G-et rid of the tiresome boy, 
and I'll come back in ten minutes. [Exit, l.) 

Dick {coming forward), Hope I do not in- 
terrupt, Ryder. 

Jack. I thought you were in the billiard- 
room. 

Dick {seating himself on desk), I was, but 
I am detachable and peripatetic. 

Jack. Ah ! very good, very good. Urn — 
er — just excuse me a moment. {Aside,) I 
must find Petrolia. {Exit, l.) 

Dick {imitating). Very good — um — er — 
just excuse me a moment. Now I w^onder if 
ever I will be so tangled up over any girl. 
And to think they are dead spoons on each 
other, and I never knew it ! " Get rid of 
that tiresome boy," says she, "and I'll be 
back in a moment." Werry well ; you shall 
finish your proposal quite comfortable for all 
me. {Jumps down from desk.) Jupiter! 
what a jolly row Aunt Hildegarde will kick 
up when she finds it out ! I wish I could 
have her in at the finish and take her picture. 
{Laughs,) It's too good to be lost, and part 



TULU. 211 

of it shall be a picture — not necessarily for 
publication, but to pay Miss Petrolia for call- 
ing me a tiresome boy. (^Moves camera so 
a takes in tete-a-tete.) ■ There ! Of course 
they will sit on the tete-a-tete ; that's what 
they are made for — proposals. Ought to be 
called pop-cushions. (JLays hulh in front of 
seat.) There you are, convenient to Ryder's 
foot. When he starts up, crying, *•' Darling, 
I love you I" he steps on my little friend, and 
a charming picture is caught just as she 
tumbles into his arms — so. [Falls on seat.) 
I hope Ryder will have the decency to keep 
on his own side. I fancy it will be all right, 
for she'll jump or wiggle — they all do — and 
skip back, with a coy shriek — so — and off 
goes the picture. If I were only a boy again 
I'd hide behind the curtain ; as I cannot, I 
must trust to luck. Now for the light. [Turns 
doivn lamp. Stage dark.) Jove ! where's the 
door? Ow ! there I go again! Well, bones 
are cheap. Ah, here I am. (JExit, c.) 

(Enter Tulu, l.) 

TuLU (feeling her ivaT/). Whatever is the 
matter? Oh, I s'pose this is more of the 



212 TULU. 

Duchess's economy. Oh no ; Mr. Diet is 
going to take a picture. Well, he sha'n't 
spoil my joke on him. I'll hide on the sofa, 
and interfere somehow. My ! Gracious ! 
Oh 1 Ah ! I guess I broke my ankle that 
time. [Hobbles to sofa.) I never was so 
bored. I never did see such a poky old 
house. I believe Mr. Dick is coming. 

[^Enter Blazonberrie, c.) 

Blaz. What the dickens — Anybody here ? 

TuLU. Only me. 

Blaz. Who is ^'me?'' Ah, Miss Seer- 
sucker ! I should know your charming voice 
anywhere. 

TuLu. Should you really ? [Aside.) He 
takes me for Petrolia. What a lark ! 

Blaz. Why is it dark? 

TuLu. My head aches fearfully, so I turned 
the lights down, and am trying to compose 
myself. 

Blaz. I'm no end sorry. May I talk to 
you ? Where are you ? 

TuLU. On the sofa. Don't break your 
shins over the chairs. 

Blaz. [tumbling over chair). Da — ahem ! 



TULU. 213 

aliem ! May I sit by you, Miss Seer- 
sucker ^ 

TuLU {laughing), I guess so. 

Blaz. Your voice sounds so like Tulu's 
in the dark. 

TuLU [giggling). That's queer. 

Blaz. Shall I turn up the light just a bit? 

TuLU. No, no ! My head is awful ! 
{Groans.) 

Blaz. Jove ! It's too bad. Perhaps I 
bore you. 

TuLu. You could never bore me, Lord 
Blazonberrie. 

Blaz. Do you mean that ? You're such a 
one for chaff, a fellow never knows. 

TuLu. Oh, I meant that. 

Blaz. Miss Seersucker — Petrol ia ! The — 
cr — darkness gives me courage to say — what 
I have tried to ever since you came — only 
you have bluffed me off. 

TuLu. No, I didn't. 

Blaz. But you seemed to. And a fellow 
loaded with debts and so forth, has not got 
much to offer. 

TuLu. I have enough for two. {Gig- 
gles,) 



214 TULU. 

Blaz. If you are making game of me, I 
am silent. 

TuLU. I am hysterical, that's all. 

Blaz. Well, then, to cut it short, will you 
be my wife ? 

TuLu. I don't exactly know. The Duch- 
ess is a corker for a mother-in-law. 

Blaz. She will retire to her dower house. 

TuLu. That's so. It certainly would be 
slick to be Lady Blazonberrie. 

Blaz. Be v/hat ? 

TuLU. Slick. Smooth^ you know. Still, 
I hardly know what to say. 

Blaz. Are you engaged to Ryder ? 

TuLu. That's what gets me. I don't 
know. 

Blaz. Don't know ! 

TuLu. No. {Rushes off^ l.) 

Blaz. I say! Look here, you know. 
(Turns up light,) Gone! Now, is this 
American coquetry or unadulterated idiocy? 
Don't know whether she's eno^ao'ed or not! 
I will be obliged if she will find out, for my 
affairs are coming to a crisis. Smash is the 
word unless money comes from somewhere. 
{Walks up and down). Going to smash for 



TULU. 215 

twenty thousand pounds, and over six times 
that amount over there (points to sofa), tied 
up by that beastly entail. The entail busi- 
ness is played out. What's this ? (Picks up 
amulet.) Ryder's fetish. Let him hunt for 
it if he wants it. (^Throws amulet down.) 
And he, with his priggish airs, stands be- 
tween me and two hundred thousand pounds 
sterling and a wife who thinks it would be 
slick — no, smooth — to be Lady Blazonberrie. 
Good Gad! what an ornament to the peer- 
age ! However, she's a well-gilded pill, and 
I never heard her out before in such howling 
bad form as she was to-night. 

(Enter Petrolia, c. e.) 

Pet. Jack ! Pardon me. Lord Blazonber- 
rie ; I thought my cousin was here. Have 
you seen him ? 

Blaz. No ; he has not been here since you 
left. I have waited, and am waiting, for my 
answer. How could you run away ? 

Pet, How could I run away ? (Comes for- 
ward.) 

Blaz. Yes, and leave me in such — such — 
er — harrowing uncertainty ? 



216 TULU, 

Pet. I? 

Blaz. If it were not you, who was it? 

Pet. (bewidlered). If it were not I, who was 
it? 

Blaz. (impatiently). That is what I said. 

Pet. Ah, it is an English joke. 

Blaz. More in the American style, I fancy. 
First, you say it will be slick — smooth — to be 
Lady Blazonberrie ; secondly, that you do 
not know whether you are engaged to Ryder 
or not. How do you explain that ? 

Pet. When did I say all this ? 

Blaz. Not five minutes ago ; and, I say, 
how do you explain it ? 

Pet. I don't. I can't. I am all in the 
dark. 

Blaz. Well, you are a very different young 
lady in the dark, I assure you. I wish I had 
not turned up the light. 

Pet. Oh, I see ! All this happened in the 
dark. 

Blaz. I should think you might recollect 
that. 

Pet. (aside). This is Tulu's mischief! 
(Aloud.) You are making a vastly serious 
matter of this. 



TULU. 217 

Blaz. It is serious. I must know if you 
are engaged to Eyder, 

Pet. I deny your right to question me. 

Blaz. I have a right to know if I am being 
misled. 

Pet. I am not misleading you. 

Blaz. {sitting by her). Then you love me ! 
You will be my wife ! 

Pet. Do you love me, Lord Blazonberrie ? 

(Jack appears in door^ c.) 

Blaz. I am not a sentimental fellow, but I 
think you are no end jolly, and I want you 
to be my wife. 

(Jack makes gesture of despair^ disappears,) 

Pet. Exactly. And were there no ques- 
tion of settlements, I am the ideal wife 
you would select to do the honors of your 
house ? 

Blaz. Well— I— ^ . 

Pet. {rising). You answer yourself. You 
regard me as a creature quite outside the 
pale of civilization, a vulgar Philistine, bad 
form in every sense of the word, and only to 
be tolerated for the money I bring. Pardon 



218 TULU, 

me if I speak too frankly, but I do not think 
you offer me a fair equivalent. 

Blaz. Yet you seemed to like the prospect 
of being a duchess. (^Rises, walks about.) 

Pet. I own 1 was dazzled. There was a 
time when it seemed quite a splendid posi- 
tion, but now I realize it is a paltry affair. 

Blaz. I see. Kyder steps betw^een us. 

Pet. He has nothing to do with the case. 

Blaz. I heard nothing of this virtuous 
contempt for rank until he appeared. Well, 
I accept my defeat. He is a nice enough 
fellow, but I doubt if he is quite the hero you 
imagine him. 

Pet. He is at least incapable of the mean- 
ness of — of — 

Blaz. Marrying for money ? Don't balk 
at the word. So am I. I couldn't marry 
you without it, but, believe me. Miss Seer- 
sucker, were you less fascinating than you 
are, even your fortune would not tempt me. 

Pet. Oh, Lord Blazonberrie, I hope you 
do not really care for me, 

Blaz. Care ! 

Pet, Say no more. Let us forget this 
wretched scene. I do not love you, but I 



TULU. 219 

feel more real friendship for you than I could 
ever have fancied possible. [Gives him her 
hand.) 

Blaz. (kissing her hand). Friendship is 
cold comfort, but I accept it. And I shall 
never give you up — never ! 

Pet. Oh, I must not stay. Think no more 
of me. Lord Blazonberrie, I beg of you. 
(Exit, L.) 

Blaz. {coming down f.). That was a neat 
recover, I think. AVhy the dickens did I 
balk so over telling her I loved her, in the 
first place ? I fancy it was that scene in the 
dark. With that fresh in my mind I really 
could not tell her she was an ideal duchess. 
However, I patched it up neatly. She is full 
of sympathy for my love-lorn state, and that's 
a distinct move. Now, could I but overturn 
her little hero from his pedestal, she is mine. 
How to do it — that's the question. 

[Enter Robinson, c.) 

Rob. [handing him letter). A letter, my 
lord. Boy from the Bhie Cow, waiting for a 
hanser. 

Blaz. (tearing letter open). Rosenthal's 



220 TULU. 

writing ! (EeadSj crumples letter,) Confound 
-it! 

KoB. {aside), A dun. 

Blaz. {ivrites note at desk, turns to Rob.). 
Here, give this to the boy. What are you 
staring at ? 

Rob. Nothing, my lord. 

Blaz. You lie. You were staririo^ at me. 

Rob. Yes, my lord. 

Blaz. Leave the room. 

Rob. Yes, my lord. (Aside.) Hit was a 
dun. (Uxit, c.) 

Blaz. {coming doion f., reading letter). " Let 
me call your lordship's attention to the fact 
that your lordship's bill for twenty thousand 
pounds comes due to-morrow, and must be 
taken up. Have spoken to my principal as 
you desired, and he says he can't possibly 
renew even for one month. Shall remain at 
the inn until ten o'clock to-morrow, when, if 
I neither see nor hear from your lordship, will 
be obliged to come up to the castle. Trust- 
ing your lordship will see the necessity of 
giving this your immediate attention, I re- 
main, your lordship's humble servant, A. Ro- 
senthal. At the Blue Cow. December 



TULU. 221 

20th." [Crushes letter in his hand,) Damn 
his smooth impudence ! Come up here and 
make a scene, will he ? How the deuce can 
I raise twenty thousand pounds? Don't he 
know that there's not a Jew in London ready 
to advance me another sov. ? And the Duke 
is drained dry. By Jove, there never was 
such an unfortunate fellow as I ! The small- 
est bet I can make on a horse breaks his 
wind or his leg ; while anything large brings 
battle, murder, and sudden death to horse 
and jockey both. Then this chit of a girl 
gets up on her ear just as I counted on her 
fortune to mend my own. Were I engaged 
to her, Eosenthal would wait. But how to 
manage it, how to manage it ? [Exit, l.) 

[Enter Jack, c.) 

Jack. Not here, of course. After the 
touching scene I interrupted, how could I ex- 
pect it ? And yet I did. I did. ( Comes 
forward, sits, c.) I should have known she 
could not refuse his title, but I loved her and 
believed in her. ^' Do you love me ?" she 
asked, and doubtless he swore he did. lie's 
just the style of fellow women admire, hand- 



222 TULU. 

some, dull, and soft in Lis manner. Latent 
strength, they call it, when it's only repressed 
idiocy. Pshaw ! I w^on't think of it. She 
shall never know how deep a wound she has 
inflicted. I will leave to-morrow; that I am 
resolved on. 

[Enter Dick, l,) 

Dick {aside). He's here. I'll get the light 
out, and send her. {Aloud.) Are you asleep, 
Ryder ? 

Jack (turning). Ah, Chetwyn ! I was won- 
dering where everybody was. 

Dick {sitting l. f.). I say, what a jolly lot 
we are ! all straying about like Banshees, ex- 
cept my revered aunt, who has retired with a 
— pain in her temper. That's chronic with 
her. Maybe you have one yourself. 

Jack. No ; I was meditating. 

Dick. It seems to take a good deal out of 
you. ( Winks.) Cheer up. She will be here 
directly. 

Jack. The Duchess ? 

Dick. Not much. Your charming cousin. 
Miss Seersucker. She asked me where you 
were, and I said in here, so says she — er — 



TULU. 223 

"Run ia and tell him I am coming," and I 
ran. 

Jack {stiffly). You are most obliging. 

Dick. Don't mention it. . {Aside,) Now 
for the light. {Aloud.) What ails the light ? 
{Fumbles ivith lamp,) It seems to — ugh ! 
ah ! — what a beast of a lamp ! 

Jack. It burns well enough. You're turn- 
ing it out. 

Dick. Not a bit of it. {Turns it out. 
Stage darlc,) Jove ! what a fool of a lamp ! 

Jack. I knew you'd do it. I'll fetch a 
match. 

Dick. No, no ! Miss Petrolia will miss 
you. I'll fetch one. Where are you ? 

Jack. Sitting on the tete-a-tete. 

Dick. That's all right. I'll be back in an 
instant. {Exit^ c.) 

Jack. So she is coming to smooth me 
down again. For once she will find me in- 
flexible. {Pause.) Why don't that idiot of 
a boy come back ? {Pause.) Well, I am 
soft ! Master Dick is playing one of his 
charming jokes on me. I knew he was fool- 
ing about the lamp. I'll go to my room and 
pack. Where is the door ? Ah ! here. So 



224 TULU. 

ends your joke, Master Dick. (Buns into 

Rob., entering c. e.) 
Bob. Beg parding. 
Jack. No matter. (Goes off^ c.) 
Rob. That was the Hamerican. Wothever 

was 'e a- doing hall halone hin the dark? 

{Lights lamp,) 

[Enter Petrolia and Tulu, l.) 

Pet. Robinson, where is the Duchess ? 

Rob. 'Er ladyship 'ave retired to 'er room. 
Miss Seersucker, hand begs you will hexcuse 
'er for the rest of the hevening, has she is 
very much hindispoged. 

Pet. Is it anything serious, Robinson ? 

Rob. Nothing serious, miss. 

Tulu. She's boiling mad, Petrolia. 

Pet. Tulu! 

Rob. Do you require hanything, miss ? 

Pet. No. You may go. 

(Robinson goes off^ c.) 

Tulu. You'll make a jolly duchess, Petro- 
lia. You say "You may go" exactly like 
your mother-in-law. Pm glad she is ill; 



TULU. 225 

maybe she won't get in such a jolly wax for 
nothing again. 

Pet. It is another bit of insolence. 

TuLU. Who cares ? Come on in the bill- 
iard-room ; Dick and Blazonberrie are there, 
and ril fetch Jack. Come on. 

Pet. Are you crazy, Tulu ? We can't stay 
down without our hostess and chaperon, and 
entertain a party of young men — -at least, not 
in England. 

Tulu. We can't go to bed at ten o'clock. 

Pet. We must go up to my sitting-room 
and read. Come, Tulu, and we will leave as 
soon as we can possibly find an excuse. 

Tulu. But my joke on Dick ! Oh, 
Smithy ! 

Pet. That will keep. Please come, Tulu. 

Tulu. Well, you go, and I will follow. 

Pet. (laughing). Sure 'nuff ? 

Tulu. Sure 'nuif. Skip, Smithy. 

Pet. Don't be long. [Exit, c.) 

Tulu. I sha'n't go until I have taken Mr. 
Dick's picture. He will have to pass through 
here to the smoking-room. (Arranges camera 
hg tea-table so it takes in c. e.) There ! that 
ought to get liini. (Picks up bulb.) Now 
15 



226 TULU. 

for the light. {^Turns out light. Stage dark,) 
ni get behind the table. [Pause,) My ! it's 
awful hot here, and I'm getting sleepy. I 
wish Mr. Dick would hurry. [Yawns,) I'm 
so — sleepy. [Pause,) 

(Blazonberrie enterSy c.) 

Blaz. All dark again. So much the bet- 
ter. Jove ! how my heart thumps ! I am 
only robbing myself. The jewels are mine 
— or will be — and the entail can go to the 
deuce. [Soft music until end of scene.) The 
Duchess never wears the thing, so it will not 
be missed ; or if it is — / do not know the 
combination, [Lights match, goes to desk,) 
What did I step on? [Stoops down.) Ry- 
der's amulet again. Stay there ! Should the 
worst come, you are circumstantial evidence. 
[Lights match, turns handle of safe.) P-e- 
t-r-o-l-i-a, and out you come. [Takes out Ra- 
nee'' s necklace, replaces jewel-box, closes safe 
by light of matches. Goes to o. e.) 

TuLU [whisjyering), Mr. Dick is here; 
now, then ! [Squeezes bulb. Flash shows 
Blaz. hj c. e., his hand raised, holding neck- 
lace.^ 



TULU. 227 

Blaz. a light ! Some one coming ! [Rush- 
es off.) 

TuLU. I forgot to groan. [Goes to camera,) 

TABLEAU. 

Tuhv taking out 2>late. 

CURTAIN. 

{^T he flash can he imitated hy quickly uncover- 
ing white light in l. e., 50 it strikes full on 
Blazonberrie.) 



ACT III. 

Same scene; moiming ; music. Curtain rises 
on Blazonberrie and Petrolia, Jack and 
TuLU, da.ncing gavotte ^ or fancy dance; 
Dick sitting on table, l., playing on comb. 
They dance one measure, then music grows 
fainter, so they talk while dancing, 

Dick. You will be belles of the ball, special 
ly Talu, who dances like a pantomime fairy. 

TuLU. Yes, I can dance. Jack, I wish you 
would not look so dismal. 



228 TULu. 

Jack, rm as jolly as a sand-boy. Here 
we go — forward, back, and round again. 

Blaz. Miss Seersucker, may we not know 
what character you take in the masquerade 
to-night ? 

Pet. That is a secret between the Duchess 
and I. 

Dick. I bet I know. 

TuLU. I bet you don't. Why, even I don't. 

Jack. You might tell me, Petrolia ; I shall 
not be here to-night. 

Pet. Not be here ? [Stops dancing,) 

TuLU. Not be here ? After rehearsing the 
dance, and getting your costume ! Oh, Jack ! 

Dick. It will spoil the whole thing. 

Blaz. Is not this rather sudden, Mr. Ry- 
der ? 

Jack. You do not object, I suppose, Lord 
Blazonberrie ? 

Blaz. Not at all. 

Pet. How mysterious! (Goes to fire with 
Blaz.) 

Dick [going to Jack). I say, old fellow, 
you must not desert us. 

TuLu ( taking his hand ). Please stay, 
Jack. 



TULU. 229 

(Duchess enters^ c.) 

Jack. I must go, Tulu, Duty calls me. 

TuLU. Then I think you are perfectly hate- 
ful. But I don't care! IVe got something 
to attend to — something important. Don't 
you wish you knew, Master Dick ? 

Dick. I suppose you are going to wash 
your new puppy. 

Tulu. A puppy is in it. ( Laughs, ) 
You'll know in about ten minutes. [Runs 

off, L.) 

Duchess {advancing). Did I hear you say 
you were going to leave us, Mr. Ryder ? 

Jack. I regret to say I must. Duchess. 

Duchess. Must ? 

Dick. There's thunder in the air. (Cross- 
es to R.) 

Jack. Yes — business in London, some 
work overdue — in short, I must take the 
11.10 mail up. 

Duchess. But your departure breaks up 
the party to the masquerade. I do not un- 
derstand why you must do that. The mail 
is not here, no telegrams have arrived. It 
must be a mere caprice. 



230 TULU. 

Jack. Call it so if you please, Duchess, 
but I cannot remain. 

Duchess. Very good. {^Turns her hack.) 
Miss Seersucker, Wiggins is ready for you. 
I will get the necklace, and we will try the 
effect. 

Pet. Thanks, Duchess ; I am quite ready. 

Blaz. What is the costume, mother ? 

Duchess {going to safe). Has not Miss 
Seersucker told you? She is to be the Ra- 
nee, and wear the necklace. 

Blaz. Wear the Ranee's necklace ! Jove ! 
— er — what a jolly idea! [Comes down f. 
Aside,) It has come. It is now a toss-up be- 
tween Ryder and me. One of us goes to the 
wall, and, by Jove ! it shall not be me. [To 
Pet.) You could not have made a more be- 
coming or, to me, a more flattering choice. 

Pet. Flattering ! Why, I thought, on the 
contrary — ah, I beg your pardon. Lord Bla- 
zonberrie. 

Jack (aside). It is evidently all settled. I 
must take myself off. Duchess, I have the 
honor to thank you for your kind hospitality, 
and to wish you good-bye. 

Duchess. Pardon me for detaining you. 



TULU. 231 

but I have forgotten the combination. Usu- 
ally I write the word in my note-book. This 
time I trusted to your memory. 

Jack. Permit me to assist you. ( Unlocks 
sofe^ hands Ducrkss jewel-box. She takes out 
tray^ gives box back.) 

Duchess. One moment more. Will you 
hold this tray while I — Great heavens ! I 
— oh ! great heavens ! What shall I do ? [All 
rush to her,) 

Pet. Oh, what is the matter ? 

Duchess. We are robbed ! Blazonberrie, 
the Ranee's necklace is gone ! 

Jack. The Ranee's necklace 1 

Pet. The Ranee's necklace ? 

Jack. Why, I saw you put it there my- 
self. 

Dick {examininc/ tray). It is gone, no deny- 
ing it. 

Blaz. Impossible ! Diamonds do not ex- 
hale. There must be some mistake, some 
stupidity. Who knew the combination ? 

Duchess. Why, only Mr. Ryder and I. 

Jack. Yes, only the Duchess and myself. 

Blaz. {starts). Only! Ah! 

Dick. What ails vou ? 



232 TULU. 

Blaz. Nothing. 

Jack. And I told no one. 

Duchess. Nor I. 

Blaz. (starts again). Why, that looks — 
Oh, nonsense ! 

Duchess. Looks? Looks what? Why do 
you not finish your sentence ? (Pause.) I in- 
sist. 

Blaz. {affecting to loioer his voice). Do 
you not see ? It is impossible, incredible ! I 
am host in my own house, not a detective. 

Duchess. Not a detective, you mean ? 

Blaz. (^glancing at Ryder). That it is best 
to say no more. The house of Toedmag can 
better afford to pocket its loss than to — 

Dick. Oh ! By Jove ! Blazonberrie, you 
don't mean — 

Jack [stepping foriuard). Perhaps Lord 
Blazonberrie will kindly explain what he does 
mean. 

Blaz. (haughtily). I have said nothing, 
sir! 

Pet. But you looJc volumes. 

Duchess. Look ! Well he may. I see it all ! 
No one but Mr. Ryder and myself knew the 
combination. He thou^rht I should not wear 



TULU. 233 

the necklace. He asks me most particularly 
about it. He arranges to be called away by 
business just remembered ; and supposed the 
loss will not be discovered until *lie has made 
his escape. Mr. Ryder, give me my necklace ! 
Blazonberrie, secure the doors and summon 
the police. 

Pet. Duchess, you dare to say — you 
mean ? 

Blaz. My dear Miss Seersucker, you will, I 
am sure, pardon the Duchess who is in a fear- 
fully excited condition. 

TuLu (outside). Mr. Dick ! Mr. Dick ! 

Dick. Oh ! I say. Miss Seersucker, shall I 
head off poor little Tulu ? Send her off to 
Saunders? 

Pet. Yes, do. She is so excitable. 

>J (Uxit Dick, c.) 

Jack. Since matters have come to this 
pass I demand an investigation. 

Pet. (clasping her hands on his arm). Yes ! 
»J^ We demand an investigation. 

Blaz. (aside). Quite touching ; but I will 
make her change her note. [Aloud.) Inves- 
tigation, Mr. Ryder, is too formidable a word. 



234 TULU. 

But if you will permit me to forget that I am 
your host, and ask — 

Duchess. Permit you ! A thief is obliged 
to answer what questions you choose. 

Pet. Jack, don't you speak a word ! 

Blaz. It is in his own interest. Miss Seer- 
sucker. 

Jack. Will you proceed with your ques- 
tions. Lord Blazonberrie ? 

(Dick enters^ c.) 

Blaz. The situation is novel. I hardly 
know how to begin. 

Duchess. Demand the keys of his trunk, 
if you will begin at the beginning. 

Pet. Abominable ! [Goes to r. f. with 
Jack ; sits by desh^ Jack standing by her. 
Duchess sits^ l. f. ; Dick stands hy fire,) 

Blaz. [stands, c). There is certainly a mys- 
tery, but it may be easily shown that it does 
not involve Mr. Ryder. [To Jack.) I think 
you have at no time been alone in this room, 
without witnesses, since the diamonds were 
placed in the safe ? 

Jack [considering) . I cannot say that, 
Lord Blazonberrie. 



TULU. 235 

Blaz. Ah ! May I ask at what hour you 
were alone here ? You left Dick and myself 
in the dining-room half after nine, or there- 
about. 

Jack. When I left you I came here and 
found Miss Seersucker. Chetwyn joined us, 
and I went for a stroll in the park. 

Blaz. And that lasted — 

Duchess. Any time he chooses to say. 
Why do you allow this adventurer to fabri- 
cate his story at his leisure ? 

Blaz. This is hardly a scene for ladies. 
You and Miss Seersucker had best retire. 

Duchess. I remain here. 

Pet. And I. 

Jack. My stroll lasted twenty minutes or 
so. I returned, and found you with Miss 
Seersucker — 

Pet. Ah, I see ! 

Jack. — went out without disturbing you, 
came back about quarter-past ten — 

Duchess (rising). It would be in order 
now, Mr. Ryder, to explain what was the 
magnet that brought you here again and 
again. 

Jack (taking no notice. She sits again). 



236 TULU. 

Chetwyn joined me, turned out the light, 
asked me to wait, went off. Suspecting a 
practical joke, I went to my room, packed 
my trunk, smoked a cigar, and retired about 
twelve o'clock. 

Blaz. Then you were alone here in the 
dark how long ? 

Jack. Possibly three minutes. 

Duchess. That is when he took the dia- 
monds ! This accounts for his haste to leave 
us. 

Pet. a crime is not needed to explain 
that. I have felt the same desire myself. 
He might have been bored. 

Duchess. It is a clear case. There is no 
other explanation. 

Blaz. Oh, good gad ! ( Walks up and 
down,) 

Pet. (composedly/). Pardon, Duchess, but 
Englishwomen have been known to steal their 
own jewels, you know, when they or their 
sons have debts that cannot be acknowledged. 

Duchess. You defend your accomplice 
with spirit. Miss Seersucker. (JRises.) 

Pet. (springing up). My accomplice ! 

Jack (stepping forward). Accomplice ! 



TULU. 237 

Blaz. {coming between), I will not — 

Duchess {interrupting). Let him explain 
why, having received neither letter nor tele- 
gram, he break's up the dance for which he 
has ordered his costume, and is suddenly 
called away by business, of which he must have 
known when he accepted my invitation. {Sits.) 

Pet. Now, Jack. {Sits,) 

Jack. I have nothing more to offer. 

Blaz. But surely, in consideration of the 
extraordinary situation, something more defi- 
nite — if there were something. 

Jack. There was, but it has no bearing on 
the case. 

Blaz. Still, it would serve you better to 
give it. 

Pet. {aside). That was a stab. He wishes 
to convict. 

Jack {steadily), I have no more to offer. 

Duchess. I insist that you send for the 
police, Blazonberrie. 

Blaz. Have you any theory, Mr. Ryder, as 
to who besides yourself could have learned 
the combination? 

Dick. I say, Blazonberrie, don't your ques- 
tions rather point one way ? 



238 TULU. 

Blaz. The answers do, perhaps, Diet. 

Duchess. Precisely ! The answers do. 

Pet. {indignantly). Oh, oh ! 

Jack {contem2:)tuously). Theory ! There 
are a dozen. Some one may have listened 
behind the portieres : some chance passer 
may have heard : the Duchess may have told 
some one — 

Duchess. Who — I? When I could not 
remember the word ? 

Pet. You may have told, Duchess, and 
forgotten that and the word all in the one 
motion. 

Duchess. Absurd ! 

Pet. It was a singular lapse of memory. 
Looks like a "put-up job," as they say in 
the States. 

Blaz. (hastily). Did you see no one at all, 
meet no one, when you left it for the last 
time ? 

Jack. Why, yes, a servant — Robinson, I 
fancy — ran into me in the door. 

Blaz. This was quarter-past ten, I think 
you said. [Rings hell,) 

Jack. About that. ( Whispers to Pet.) 



TULU. 239 



X 



(Robinson enters, c.) 

Rob. Did you ring, ray lord ? 

Blaz. (sitting on tete-a-tete). Yes ; we 
have a joke, a bet, which I think you can 
help us to decide. Were you in this room 
last night ? 

Rob. I were, my lord. I brought your 
lordship a letter, hand later I fetched a mes- 
sage to Miss Seersucker from the Duchess. 
Hit was hall dark, hand I lighted hup. 

Blaz. Was any one here ? 

Rob. I run hinto some one hin the door — 
Mr. Ryder, I think— -cos 'e says, 'urried like, 
" No matter," wich your lordship hand Mr. 
Dick most generally says — [Hesitates,) 

Blaz. Well? 

Rob. Beg parding ! But wen a body gets 
hin your ways you says — ahem ! — Damn you ! 

Blaz. What time was this ? 

Rob. Quarter to heleven. I wound the 
'all clock d'rectly hafterwards. 

Blaz. Quarter to eleven. Um ! ^Vas the 
room quite as usual this morning ? 

Rob. The camery was pulled hout, hand 
there was burnt matches by the desk, so 



240 TULU. 

the 'ouse-rnaid she was. sure hit was burg- 
lars — (All exclaim "' Oh /") 

Blaz. Go on. 

Rob. But Saunders says Miss Tulu give 
'im a plate to finish hup this morning, so we 
suppoged heverything was hall right, hand 
Mr. Dick 'ad been taking a picture. I 'ope 
nothing his wrong. 

Blaz. Nothing. You may go. 

Rob. [taking amulet from his pocket). We 
found this little match-box like by the 
desk. His hit yours, my lord ? {Hands him 
amulet,) 

Jack. My amulet ! 

Duchess. By the desk ! Biazonberrie — 

Blaz. Careful ! Leave the room, Robin- 
son. 

Rob. Yes, my lord. (Aside,) Whathever is 
going hon ? (Exitj c.) 

Duchess. Proof positive ! And matches 
burned by the safe. Biazonberrie, send for 
the police. 

Jack. I second the motion. 

Pet. Oh, Jack! 

Blaz. I cannot allow it. 

Jack. But I insist. This examination is a 



TULU. 241 

mere farce, and the circumstantial evidence 
proves nothing I wish to deny. I was alone 
here long enough to take the diamonds ; I 
did lose my amulet ; I did know the com- 
bination. On the other hand, it has yet to 
be proved that there is not in this house 
one who also knew the combination, and had 
a stronger motive than I for taking the 
jewels. 

Duchess. Twenty thousand pounds is 
motive enough. 

Pet. Americans rate their good name 
higher. Duchess. 

Duchess. How melodramatic ! 

Blaz. I think I see a way out of the diffi- 
culty, if you will all leave me alone with Mr. 
Ryder. 

Duchess. I shall write the Duke a letter 
giving all the facts, send it by messenger, 
and see if this delicate consideration for a 
thief meets his views. (Uxit, c.) 

Dick (advancing;). Miss Seersucker, may I 
take you to the drawing-room ? 

Pet. Yes. Courage, Jack ! (^xit with 
Dick, l.) 

Blaz. (after a moment''s pmcse), Mr. Ryder, 
16 



242 TULU. 

thougli I deprecate the Duchess's warmth, I 
— I— 

Jack. Share her sentiments. Well, the 
evidence is strong. [Lights cigarette, sits hy 
desk, facing Blaz., who walks about, stopping 
from time to time,) 

Blaz. I — By Jove ! put yourself in my 
place. 

Jack. Were I you I should have me ar- 
rested. 

Blaz. I never was in such a dilemma. 

Jack. Cut the Gordian knot ; have me ar- 
rested. 

Blaz. That is impossible, on Miss Seer- 
sucker's account. Standing in the position I 
do to her — as — as her future husband — 

Jack [quietly). As her future husband ? 

Blaz. Yes. I am placed in a most awk- 
ward position. I cannot prosecute so near a 
relative of my fiancee ; neither can I refuse 
to do so — my father could not — because these 
jewels are entailed, and belong not to us, but 
to the estate. 

Jack. I see. What next ? Shall I remove 
the obstacle by hanging myself ? 

Blaz. I do not understand your tone, Mr. 



TULU. • 243 

Ryder. I am very far from jesting. What 
I would say is this : either give me the neck- 
lace, or else slip quietly away now, while the 
others are not here. I promise you, on my 
honor, you shall not be followed. 

Jack. Thanks. But how can you answer 
for that ? The jewels are entailed ; very 
good ; then it is the duty of the Duke, your 
father, to regain possession of them. 

Blaz. I tell you, you shall be safe — for 
Miss Seersucker's sake. We go deeper into 
these things than Americans do, and the 
Toedmags would not care to record an alli- 
ance with a felon's relative. 

Jack. And we Americans go deeper yet. 
We never take refuge behind a petticoat. 
(Eises.) 

Blaz. Then you refuse either to give up 
the jewels or go ? 

Jack. The jewels I have not got to give, 
and I most decidedly refuse to run away and 
bear the burden of another's crime. 

Blaz. Whom do you suspect? 

Jack. I will tell my counsel that. 

Blaz. Suppose I decline and my father 
declines to prosecute ? 



244 TULu. 

Jack. You cannot. Remember the entail. 

Blaz. It may be evaded in some way. 

Jack. Then I shall give myself up to the 
nearest magistrate. 

Blaz. Think of Miss Seersucker. 

Jack. I do, but fancy she sees little to 
choose between a convict and an unconvicted 
thief, so prefer proving I am neither. 

Blaz. I must see her. This must not be. 
[Goes to door, l.) Miss Seersucker, may I 
speak with you a moment? 

Pet. (entering^ l.). Speak with me ? Cer- 
tainly. {^Goes to Jack; holds out her hand.) 
Jack ! 

Jack. Do not touch me ! [Crosses to door, 
L.) Lord Blazonberrie, you will find me in 
here. (Uxit, l.) 

Pet. What is the matter ? 

Blaz. Your cousin is overwrought, Miss 
Seersucker. He is playing a desperate game. 

Pet. Desperate game ! Then you believe 
him guilty ? 

Blaz. I have fought against the idea, but 
he tacitly admits it himself. For your sake, 
I would never prosecute him, but I cannot 
hold back my family unless — unless — 



TULU. 245 

Pet. Well, my lord ? 

Blaz. Unless you promise to marry me. 
Then, as cousin of my fiancee^ he is safe. 

Pet. I see. (WalTcs about,) 

Blaz. Think of the position I am placed 
in. Forced to prosecute one who is not only 
near to you, hut my friend and guest. Better 
lose a hundred thousand pounds, I say. 

Pet. And if I accept the condition, what 
next? 

Blaz. {going to her). Persuade him to 
leave here at once. He shall not be followed. 
I swear it. 

Pet. You want Jack to run away ? 

Blaz. It is the only course. Urge it on him. 

Pet. Have you suggested it to him ? 

Blaz. Yes, but he is determined to brazen 
it out. To you he must listen. 

Pet. Perhaps. {Walks up and down ; stops 
in front of Blaz.) Lord Blazonberrie, I ac- 
cept your terms— 

Blaz. {taking her hand). My dear girl ! 

Pet. {releasing herself). Wait ! I accept, 
conditionally. {With emphasis.) On the day 
you convince me of Jack's guilt, I promise 
to marry you. 



246 TULU. 

Blaz. Then it is settled. And you will 
urge him to go at once ? 

Pet. Send him to me, if you please. 

Blaz. {hissing her hand). You lift a load 
from my mind. (£Jxit, l.) 

Pet. [ruhhing her hand). Faugh ! His 
kiss burns. What hypocrites we women are ! 
However, it is but fair. I do not quite be- 
lieve in his disinterested care for me, nor do 
I like it. I am to get Jack out of his way, 
am I ? Well, we will see. 

(Jack enters, l.) 

Pet. Jack, I have a commission to execute. 
Will you please run away ? Lord Blazonber- 
rie most particularly requests it. 

Jack. I dare say. Petrolia, before we go 
any further, I must know if it is true you 
are to marry Blazonberrie. 

Pet. I am — 

Jack. Ah ! 

Pet. Wait ! only on the day he convinces 
me of your guilt, and that will be — never ! 

Jack. My darling Petrolia ! [Embraces 
her.) 

Pet. How could you doubt me, Jack ? 



TULU. 247 

Jack. I was distracted with jealousy. 
Then came the accusation. 

Pet. Ah ! the accusation ! Jack, we must 
not waste time. You are innocent ; then some 
one is guilty — some one in this house. 

Jack. Whom do you suspect ? 

Pet. The Duchess, or Blazonberrie, or both. 
(Checks off points on her fingers,) First point, 
the Duchess insists on telling you the combi- 
nation ; second, she forgets it ; third, Blazon, 
berrie brings out all the evidence against 
you ; fourth, refuses you the benefit of a 
trial ; and fifth, uses every means in his 
power to induce you to run away. 

Jack. Commend rne to a woman's imag- 
ination ! 

Pet. And me to a man's stupidity. But 
we must act, not talk. We will go to Bla- 
zonberrie, and again demand a trial. 

Jack. And if he refuses I shall give my- 
self up to Sir Henry Thornton, the nearest 
magistrate. 

Pet. I will drive over with you. 

Jack. No, no. 

Pet. Yes, yes. Come, Jack, we must see 
Blazonberrie at once. {They go off^ l.) 



T^S: 



248 TULU. 



(TuLU enters^ q,^ carrying iwoof of photo. y 

TuLU. There's something queer going on, 
and I can't find out what it is. I thought it 
was funny Mr. Dick took me to his den to 
help Saunders. He wanted to get me out of 
the way. I made Saunders finish up my 
picture, and it is awfully funny, only no one 
will look at it. i^SiU on tete-a-tete ; looks at 
picture,) Oh, dear ! I just wish some one 
would come ; I'm dying to show it. Hateful 
things ! always having secrets. 

[Enter Blazonberrie, c.) 

TuLu (running to him). Lord Blazonberrie, 
I've got an awfully good joke on you. See ! 
(Holds out picture,) 

Blaz. (impatiently). Don't be a nuisance ! 
Where is your sister ? 

TuLU. Find her yourself. (Blaz. goes off^ 
L.) " Don't be a nuisance !" Indeed ! I 
am a nuisance, am I? Well, they can keep 
their old secret. I've one of my own. 
(Enter Dick.) 

TuLu. Oh, Mr. Dick ! (Puts picture he- 
ind her.) 



TULU. 249 

Dick. Holloa, Tula ! [Throivs himself on 
sofa.) 

TuLu. Holloa yourself ! rm not a baby. 

Dick. Pardon my disrespect, Miss. I'm 
all out of sorts. Blue as indigo. 

TuLu. Does your poor head ache ? 

Dick. Like thunder. 

TuLu. Then I'll cologne it. (Puts picture 
on table, takes scent bottle from her pocket, goes 
to Dick,) Put your head back. [Rubs his 
head,) 

Dick. You're a good sort, Tulu. 

TuLTj. Does it make you worse to talk? 

Dick. No ; but I can't be larky. 

TuLtJ. Of course not when you're blue. 
I'm never blue myself, but I'm blaze. 

Dick. What's that last word ? 

Tulu. Blaze. It's French for sort of tired 
of things. When I go to matinees I hardly 
cry a bit. I've seen it all before, you know. 
Don't you know French ? 

Dick. Not as intimately as you do. 

Tulu. I guess you're chaffing. I say, Mr. 
Dick, you didn't take a picture last night, 
did you ? 

Dick. No. 



250 TULU. 

TuLu. But you fixed tlie camera for one, 
didn't you ? 

Dick. Yes, but my subject got away. 

TuLu. Mine didn't — at least, I caught an- 
other, and took a picture that's a regular Jim 
dandy. 

Dick. Didn't I tell you not to meddle 
with my camera? (Sits up.) 

TuLU. Put your head back. (He does so,) 
I didn't meddle at all. The machine was in 
order, so I just meant to snap you off for fun. 

Dick. Well, you didn't get me. 

TuLij. I got something better yet. The 
queerest thing you ever did see. I'll show it 
to you. Just a little more cologne. [Tilts 
bottle over his head.) 

Dick (jumping up). Oh, my eye ! Oh ! 

TuLU. Oh, I'm so sorry ! I'll fetch some 
water. (Buns to door, c.) 

Dick. You'll fetch nothing ! (Jostles her 
in door, runs off, holding handkerchief to his 
eye.) 

TuLu. AVhat an awful day I'm having ! 
(Feels her elbow.) He nearly broke my arm, 
and didn't even see the picture. (Catches up 
picture.) Oh, dear, I wish I was home ! I 



TULU. 251 

do. [Flings herself on sofa.) Everybody is 
just perfectly hateful ! (Sobs.) 



k 



(Enter Petrolia, l.) 



Pet. Tulu in tears ! Poor little thing, she 
has heard the news. [Goes to her.) What 
is the matter, Tulu ? (Kneels by sofa.) 

Tulu. Mr. Dick wouldn't look at my pict- 
ure. 1 wish I was dead ! 

Pet. Is that all? Tulu, dear, I want you 
to go up-stairs at once, and help Parker pack 
our boxes. We leave here to-day. 

Tulu (sitting up). Have you had a row 
with the Duchess, Smithy ? 

Pet. (sitting by her). Yes. 

Tulu. Then I'll stay and see the thing 
out. 

Pet. Please go, like a dear girl. 

Tulu. I'm not a dear girl. I'm a nui- 
sance. I want to be a nuisance. No one 
will oblige me by looking at my picture, and 
I won't oblige any one. 

Pet. I'll look at the picture if you'll only 
go away. (Holds out her hand.) 

Tulu. It's a joke — don't grab it ! There ! 
(Gfives her photo.) Isn't that capital ? What 



252 TULU. 

do you s'pose lie is doing ? Saunders and I 
nearly had a fit over it. 

Pet. It's Lord Blazonberrie ! 

TuLU. Yes, and he's holding a necklace — 
see! 

Pet. {springing up. Goes to light). The 
Ranee's necklace ! Tulu, how did you get 
this picture ? 

Tulu. Last night. I was waiting to get 
Mr. Dick, you know — 

Pet. Yes ; go on. 

Tulu. I turned out the light, crawled be- 
hind the table with the bulb in my hand, and 
went to sleep. Well — 

Pet. Do hurry, Tulu. 

Tulu. Well, I don't know how long I slept 
— not long, I guess. Anyway, I waked up, 
and heard some one sneaking to the door. 
Of course I thought it was Dick, so I squeezed 
the bulb, and the flash went off. 

Pet. Yes ; and then ? 

Tulu. Then I pulled out the plate, wrapped 
it up in the cloth, and took it up to bed with 
me. And this morning when Saunders de- 
veloped it it was Blazonberrie, not Dick. 
Isn't it funny ? 



TULU. 253 

Pet. Funny ? It's adorable ! (Kisses Tulu.) 
Tulu, you've saved us. 

Tulu. What ever has got into you ? 

[Enter Duchess, Blazonberrie, and Dick, c.) 

Duchess. Where is Mr. Ryder ? Did no 
one watch him ? 

Pet. I did, Duchess. 
Blaz. And he has gone ? 

(Jack enters, l.) 

Jack. I am still here, Lord Blazonberrie. 
Have you any more evidence. Duchess ? 

Duchess. No. Blazonberrie — 

Pet. One moment, Duchess. Lord Bla- 
zonberrie, I cry off from our bargain. So 
far from being convinced of my cousin's 
guilt, I have proof positive of his inno- 
cence. 

Duchess. Bargain ? What bargain ? 

Jack. Petrolia ! What is — 

Duchess {interrupting). The proofs first, 
if you please. 

Pet. You may not like them, Duchess. 
Lord Blazonberrie, what do you say ? 



254 TULU. 

Blaz. What have I to do with the mat- 
ter? 

Pet. (holding out photo to Dick). Mr. 
ChetwjD, will you look at this picture, and 
tell us who it is ? 

Dick {talcing it). Blazonberrie ! Splendid ! 
Perfect ! Who took this ? 

TuLU [proudly). I did. Thought I was 
going to spoil your camera if I touched it ! 

Pet. {earnestly). Mr. Chetwyn, what does 
Lord Blazonberrie hold in his hand ? 

Dick {looking). The Eanee's necklace ; no 
one could mistake that pendant. {Starts.) 
By Jove ! when was this taken ? 

TuLu. Last night, about eleven o'clock. 

All. Eleven o'clock ! 

TuLu. Yep ; eleven o'clock. {Laughs.) 

Blaz. {aside). The flash ! Oh, double-dyed 
fool! 

Jack. Tulu ! You took Lord Blazonberrie 
with the Kanee's necklace in his hand at 
eleven o'clock last night ? 

Tulu. Yep, and never knew it — there's 
where the joke comes in. I w^as laying for 
Mr. Dick in the dark, and w^as sleepy — it was 
awfully hot ; I was behind the table there — 



TULU. 255 

so I dropped off in a little nap. Well, I had 
the bulb all ready, waked up, heard some one 
in the room, thought it was Mr. Dick, squeezed 
the bulb, and never knew till this morning 
what I had got. Isn't it grand ? Mr. Dick 
never got anything half as good. Isn't it a 
joke on him ? 

Dick. It's a serious sort of joke on us all, 
Tulu. 

Duchess {seizing picture). It is Blazonber- 
rie ! But it proves nothing. It is an Amer- 
ican trick. 

Tulu. Trick ! I tell you— 

Pet. (interrupting), Tulu, this is serious. 
Last night the Ranee's necklace was stolen — 

Tulu. Stolen ! Stolen here ! Was I alone 
in the room with a real burglar ? {Looks 
at Blaz.) Oh ! Oh ! Lord Blazonberrie 
had the necklace. Petrolia, what have I 
done ? 

Jack. Skived my reputation. They ac- 
cused me — 

Pet. Yes, Tula, they called Jack a thief ! 

Duchess. And do still. It is a con- 
spiracy. 

Dick. Aunt Hildegarde, be reasonable. 



256 TULu. 

Jack. Very good. I return to my first 
proposition : order my arrest. 

Blaz. Stuff ! Nonsense ! I have been a 
fool, but know when the game is up. 1 over- 
heard the combination, and stole my own 
diamonds. There you have it. We will say 
nothing, and you will say nothing, for we 
might still make it unpleasant for you, in 
spite of Tulu and her camera. [Goes over to 
fire,) 

Duchess. Wretched boy ! he confesses his 
disgrace ! [Sits^ l. f.) 

Dick [going to her). Aunt Hildegarde, we 
owe Mr. Ryder a most humble apology. 

Duchess. Not at all. It w^as but natural 
to think twenty thousand pounds a great 
temptation to a man of his stamp. [Fans 
herself violently,) 

Tulu. You're off about his "" stamp," Duch- 
ess. Blazonberrie is a gentleman because he 
couldn't help being born a Toedmag ; but 
Jack is a gentleman because he likes to be. 
So there ! 

Pet. My dear Tulu — 

Tulu. You can't down me. Smithy. It's 
the solid truth I'm giving her. 



TULU. 



257 



Jack (kissing her). You are a little 
trump. 

TuLU. But I take a big trict, don't I ? 

TABLEAU. 

Blazonberrie. Petrolia. Dick. 

TuLU. Duchess. 

Jack. 

Rob. {entering, c). The carriage waits, 
Miss Seersucker. 

QUICK curtain. 
17 



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iiiiiininii 

015 907 401 8 



